Dead Man's Chest
by Roxy Fic
Summary: 15 men on a dead man’s chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! NC17: character death, violence, noncon, spoilers. Sparrow, Turner, Norrington. Don’t overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings.
1. Bargaining Begins

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** This Chapter: PG-13 Overall: NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 2,063  
**Notes: **Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

I. Bargaining Begins

Norrington left Lord Beckett's office with his title and his confidence restored. Now, he was to set sail, for where he did not know, as Davy Jones would surely be waiting for any man who kept acquaintance with Jack Sparrow.

Just as he expected, not mere days into his excursion, the Flying Dutchman and her cursed crew rose from the depths to inquire about the missing contents of the now-uncovered chest. True to the cleverness he'd exhibited in ferreting the heart out from under the noses of his comrades, Norrington never gave away all his cards. He struck a deal to reveal the location of the stolen heart in exchange for one thing. He wanted the compass Jack had once carried. Davy Jones was cautious, but ultimately eager to oblige and when Norrington produced a list of ships that would be carrying the heart, he sent Norrington away with compass in hand.

As the Commodore sailed toward the horizon, Jones sent his men round the great works of the ship, calling for the Kraken. When it was summoned, Jones ordered it to spit Jack up along some beach, and it was off with a great rumbling of water. Norrington sailed in its wake, compass guiding his course homeward.

Even with the blessing of Davy Jones, the newly reappointed Commodore made much slower pace than the Kraken and arrived at port several days after Jack had washed up on shore. As Beckett no longer had any use for him, he'd been left well enough alone by the authorities and was being cared for and hidden by Will Turner. A knock came suddenly at their door, some mornings after Jack seemed to be restored to his health.

Will stuck his head out of the door, saw the Commodore on the stoop and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

"Commodore," Will greeted, coldly.

"Mr. Turner," Norrington countered with equal disdain.

"Commodore, if you please, I should like to make our words quick, as Elizabeth has been of poor temper since the postponing of the marriage."

"I understand," Norrington's countenance almost softened. "Then, I will not trouble you with pleasantries. I know there is something you need to free your father from the service of Davy Jones."

Will's jaw went momentarily slack and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Do not ask, it is unimportant. What is important is the price of the thing you seek."

"For the heart of Davy Jones I will trade all I have," Will said, resolutely.

"I have not the heart," Norrington said, "but something very nearly as valuable that can lead you there."

"The compass!" Will whispered.

"Yes…" Hissed the Commodore. "I will expect you in my chambers at midnight to negotiate its price."

Before Will had a moment to object, Norrington spun on his heel and strode away.

Will ducked back inside and found Elizabeth staring him down.

"What is he doing here? You should've killed him right on the stoop," her voice cracked with rage.

"What do you care!" Will spat.

"What do you mean?" Her eyes narrowed.

"You know very well what I mean! Did I not see my own fiancé kissing a man I trusted only to save her life before he was taken to the depths? And all of this time while our wedding is being rebuilt, you have still never had the decency to confess!" Will shook with the effort of his words.

"It was the only way! I chained him to the mast, did you not see that, as well? Jack did not elect to stay behind, I condemned him! Do you not see how my grief destroys me!" She sank to her knees and wept bitterly.

"I have had enough of your lies!" Will shouted and pointed to the door, "get out of my sight! Get out and do not return!"

"Will…" she pleaded, but to no avail. He stood pointing until she left the house and ran down the drive, tears streaming down her face.

Will stormed off in the direction of the room he'd allowed Jack to occupy. He flung open the door with such force that Jack was jolted from his sleep. He sat up abruptly, brow crinkling to reflect his confusion. Will could keep silent no longer.

"I have saved your life time and again, I have been loyal to you to the utmost, and now, you have cheated me out of my fiancé and my father. Confess! What happened on that ship?" Will demanded.

"I would have told you, but I thought it better to let you live your life…" Jack began, his expression softening with sympathy. "She surprised me. I never would have taken her from you, even if it was what she wanted!"

"Why did you stay on that ship?" Will asked, as always, being more willing to hear Jack's stories than he thought he wanted to.

"She asked me to stay. For you. For your marriage. She asked me to do it so you could be happy together. I thought of you, both of you, living your lives… And I realized that an old pirate like me has got a lot less to live for than either of you alone, but especially together."

Internally, Jack braced for impact. The lie was potentially far too absurd to be believed, but it was the best he could come up with, jolted out of sleep with such a difficult question. And he did love Will. Had Will been the one doing the kissing, Jack knew, there would have been no handcuffs needed. Even in his negotiating with Davy Jones, he knew he'd willingly face his servitude along with Bootstrap for the likes of the old man's son.

"She's gone," Will said, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. "She told me she fastened you to the mast and that you stayed because you had no choice. I should have known when she didn't tell me of her own accord… I made her leave."

"There, there, lad," Jack soothed, putting a hand on Will's hardened shoulder. "There are plenty of fish in the sea."

Will recoiled and Jack cringed apologetically. Will did not mention the Commodore and the visit he would be making at midnight. Jack needed nothing further to vex him if he were to help Will secure his father's freedom once the negotiations were complete. Jack needed to heal and Will did not intend to delay the process. Yet, when Jack leaned close, Will could not make himself pull away. Jack's presence was comforting… Unexpectedly so. Will turned his face to Jack's.

"I don't know what to make of it that the Kraken spat you out. What did you do?"

"Sea turtles…" Jack muttered, tilting back a bit. He didn't have an answer either. From the moment it swallowed him, he could make no sense of the whole affair.

Will eyed him critically.

"What does it matter? I'm here, now. I'm glad to have you back, and I'll help you in any way I can. We'll get him back, Will, even if I have to barter my soul back to the sea."

Will nodded. He didn't think Jack would need to do any real bartering after they got the compass back, but he appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless. He stared into Jack's dark eyes and Jack stared back. Jack saw hurt and anger and confusion and he longed to ease them.

"Don't you know me by now, Will? Don't you know that your bonnie lass was the last person I ever wanted to kiss?"

"How could I know?" Will asked, his voice small and weak.

"Because you know me, Will. And I want you to know me," Jack said seductively.

Jack leaned closer, still, trying to divulge his intentions gradually. Perhaps it was shock, or perhaps it was simply that Jack's manner had always been rather touchy, but Will did not startle until their lips met. For a moment, his jaw tightened and his muscles tensed, but then he relaxed slightly and Jack extended a gentle tongue. Cautiously, Will began to open his mouth and leaned into the embrace. Jack's hand brushed his face gently and touched his hair. He kissed Will with a tenderness that belied his roguish manner.

"Do you want to know me?" Jack asked, pulling away with eyes blazing defiantly, in spite of his obviously vulnerable position.

"Yes," Will answered, after a moment. "Aye."

"Aye, Will," Jack breathed and he put his hand into Will's loose ponytail, entwining his fingers close to the scalp.

Will refused to take his eyes from Jack for several moments until he was overcome by the tension of Jack refusing to make another move. Will closed his eyes and leaned forward, pulling Jack closer by the fabric of his shirt. Jack let out a low, throaty moan when they kissed, and Will felt his voice vibrate. They kissed for long minutes until Jack began to undo the fastenings of Will's shirt, which seemed to interrupt Will's thoughts… or rather, lack thereof. He hesitated with indignance and watched Jack's hands work at the buttons. The kissing was comfortable, but any further change was confusing to Will.

His fears, however, soon subsided as Jack slid a nimble hand into Will's shirt. The callous on Jack's hand was rough, but not unpleasant and the warmth of his skin and breath was intoxicating. Responding to the tug at his own shirt, Jack broke their embrace to remove it and sank back against Will, pushing him slowly down onto the bed. Will clutched at Jack's skin with ferocity, tormented by inner conflict, but unable to deny his lust. He held Jack by his slender waist and pulled their bodies together. Jack laid flat over Will and explored the exposed skin with his fingertips. His eyes fluttered half shut, but as he bent for another kiss, Will tensed again.

"Jack," Will whispered. He sat up abruptly, shoving Jack to one side.

Jack stared back with his usual look of sexual dejection. His brow furled and he leaned his head back in question. Will stared almost blankly away from Jack.

"I can't," he said. "I can't do this, Jack. What about Elizabeth?"

"You said so yourself. She's gone, mate."

Will sighed.

"I'm sorry, lad. It's all too soon." Jack got up from the bed and put his shirt back on.

Will looked worried and upset, but he stood and buttoned his shirt again.

"I've got all the time in the world," Jack said slyly. He intended it to lighten the mood, but he couldn't tell if the effect of the words had done more harm than good. Will turned purposefully and left the room without saying a word. He needed his thoughts in much better order before he faced whatever weird meeting awaited him with Norrington.

Will stared intently at the candle on the table late into the evening. Jack had long ago gone to bed and was sleeping deeply, as evidenced by his loud snoring. It must surely be about midnight by now. Will got up, grabbed his coat and dashed out the door.

When he arrived at the Barracks, Will found the door of the Commodore's chambers unlatched, with a little stream of light flickering underneath. Will let himself in and stood expectantly at the desk.

"Good evening, Mr. Turner," Norrington spoke with some sly intent barely hidden by his practiced countenance.

"Commodore," Will muttered his standard greeting. His teeth involuntarily clenched. There was a moment of silence and then the Commodore continued.

"Well, I won't take up much of your time with bargaining. I can give you something you need and you can give me something I want."

"Jack has nothing else of any value and I'm not giving you his hide," Will countered, loyal to a fault.

"What I want has nothing whatever to do with Jack Sparrow," Norrington said, flatly.

"Captain," Will began strongly, but finished with less gusto, "Captain Jack Sparrow."

Norrington's eyes rolled with disgust.

"What is it you want?" Will asked, through with any pleasantries the Commodore had in mind. "Name your price."

"What are you willing to pay?" Norrington looked deadly serious except for the wicked gleam of his eye.

"Anything," Will said valiantly, craning his neck and stepping into his words.

"Good," Norrington answered and he reclined in his chair. "Let the bargaining begin."


	2. Stroke of Midnight

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 1,929  
**Notes: **Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

II. Stroke of Midnight_  
_

That night Jack woke slowly to the sound of heavy breathing. Will was slumped dejectedly in the chair across the room, only moonlight to illuminate the troubled expression on his face. Jack propped himself up on his elbows so silently that Will startled when he spoke.

"My tremendous intuitive sense of the male creature informs me that you are troubled," Jack said.

"I went to see the Commodore," Will began.

Jack did not stir when Will paused.

"He said he had your compass and that I was to negotiate a trade for it. I thought I had nothing to trade, but I was willing to give anything to keep my promise to my father…"

Jack sat up completely.

"He wants me to…" A weird expression came over Will's face. Jack leaned forward with concern.

"Go on," Jack urged.

"I need you to teach me how to know a man, Jack."

"Know… a man?" Jack queried, lascivious thoughts brewing, though not quite quickly enough to be believable, even to himself.

"I want to know you, Jack."

"Or you want to know how to know the Commodore?" Jack asked, indignant but nonetheless willing.

"I want to know you. And I need you to teach me because there's nothing else I can barter for that compass. I have to have it. I have to keep my promise to my father, no matter the cost."

Jack did not make a move. He was clearly annoyed, albeit interested.

"Jack, I don't like what's being asked of me. I don't like it, but I need your help. You're the only one I can turn to."

Jack swung his legs over the edge of the bed and swayed in his familiar fashion. He stood and Will stood to meet him. Jack cocked his head in his most convincing impression of someone with dignity.

"It's a pity that it takes a man like Norrington to convince you of what you want," Jack said. He hesitated.

Will wasn't going to beg.

"But I'll help you." There was the wicked flash of gold that Will was accustomed to.

He kissed Jack urgently and without hesitation. The responsibility of his duty gave new purpose to his otherwise uncertain desires and he gave in fully to the sensation of touching Jack.

"Tell me something," Jack pulled away just far enough to speak. "Tell me the reason you're doing this. The real reason. The first reason. I'll still help you, but I want to know."

"I want to know you, Jack. The need for leverage speeds my decision, but I have always wanted… To know," Will confessed breathily.

"Ah, curiosity," Jack said seductively. "I knew you'd come to my side, eventually."

Will said nothing in reply, but Jack smiled and kissed him. Their breathing mingled hotly as Jack ran his fingers through Will's sweat-damp hair. Again, they kissed for long minutes until Jack interrupted their progress.

"How long have you got before this bargain of yours is due to be complete?" Jack asked.

"Once and once only," Will said, keeping a brave face in spite of his shame. "I go to him in two days time. Then, there will be no more bargaining and if I have to, I will cut him down and find where he hides the compass for myself."

"Now, now, don't go vexing yourself about it early. I only wanted to know how much time I have to er… give you proper training."

Jack motioned to the bed and Will followed as requested.

"Come now," Jack said softly, "we can get to the training, tomorrow. Tonight, relax and let Captain Jack take care of you."

Jack sat on the edge of the bed and Will beside him, reluctantly. Will knew nothing of what to expect and nothing of how to behave. The anxiety very nearly petrified him. Jack's eyes fluttered over the sight of Will's flushed skin and tensed body, nervously perched on the bed, waiting impatiently. He stopped short of licking his lips in anticipation, but only barely. Will caught the look and gave a little cough. Jack told Will to relax as he lowered him to the downy bed.

Jack crawled over Will's body, and took his time removing Will's shirt. Jack, himself, slept in nothing but pants. How fortuitous.

"Relax, boy," Jack reminded, "don't worry about learning anything, now. You'll learn plenty without even trying."

Will nodded and reached to bring Jack's face closer to his own. The kiss they shared was greedy. Jack was tempered by many long nights at sea and Will by the loss of his fiancé. Each was equally desperate in his own way, all other motivations aside.

Having the clear upper hand in experience, Jack took the lead, teasing Will's skin with his fingertips. He ran his hand over the fine, smooth chest, provoking reserved moans. Jack's lips distracted Will from the movements of his graceful hands as he eased down Will's trousers. The long, spindly fingers swept slowly downward into the wiry hair below Will's navel. Will drew in a quick and noisy breath, arching toward Jack's hand. Jack was happy to oblige the unspoken request and he eased his hand onto Will's groin. Will gave a little groan.

"What's all this…?" Will said, poking at the fabric wrapped around Jack's hand. "Take it off."

Jack hesitated for a moment and looked at his hand.

"The spot's gone, isn't it?"

"Aye," Jack answered, "but what if…"

"Nonsense," Will snapped. "Take it off." Jack shrugged and unwrapped both his hands.

"And the rings?" Jack asked nervously.

"The rings are fine. Leave the rings," Will answered.

Will wouldn't admit it, but he found Jack's jewelry part of his unbelievably potent appeal. Jack's gilded teeth gleamed in his smile and the beads in his hair clanked as he leaned his head down to the crease of Will's neck. Will let his eyelids sink slowly closed as Jack used his hand below and his mouth above. Jack slid slowly downward, trailing decadent suction down Will's chest. He paused to run his teeth over one of Will's nipples. At first Will jumped and then he groaned with passion. Jack gave considerable thought to how much he adored the inexperienced and continued down.

Will tried desperately to calm his troubled mind as Jack slid below his navel. As indecent as Will knew it to be, he thrilled at the idea of anything Jack wanted to do to him with his tongue. Jack went agonizingly slowly, and Will could not tell whether Jack intended him to become more aroused or to attempt to calm himself. Will found, however, that his arousal increased exponentially. Will felt Jack's breath on his leg and shuddered. Jack's hair rubbed fleetingly over Will's skin as he teased, listening to Will's breathing.

Will wanted to beg Jack to touch him, but he couldn't form the words. Instead he opened his mouth and threw back his head. Jack smirked and finally gave in, running his tongue up Will's hardness. Jack was rewarded with short, high-pitched moans and they spurred him on. Having nearly as little patience as Will, Jack wrapped his mouth about Will's tip and hollowed his cheeks. Will held his breath as Jack moved his mouth down and up again. He dared not repeat the motion too many times as Will's breathing had become heavier and Jack feared the worst for his own fare that night. Jack sat up, then, realizing he was missing something.

"Wait here," Jack said, motioning to keep Will right where he was.

Will nodded and Jack hobbled across the room and tore through his effects until he produced a bottle. Jack snatched up the bottle and discarded his pants, climbing gingerly into the bed. He opened the bottle and poured some of its contents onto his hands. Will watched intently. He recognized that the substance looked like oil, but he had no idea what Jack was doing with it. Then, Jack rubbed the oil from his hands onto Will's length. Will thought the slickness might be the death of him and he sighed in loud appreciation.

"Aye… Jack…" Will choked out the words. "Do you always carry this sort of thing?"

"A good Captain is always prepared," Jack said with a chuckle.

Will let his head fall back again and paid no heed to Jack straddling him until the slick hands released him. Will wriggled a bit in disappointment and then he felt something highly surprising. His eyes flew open and Jack held himself over Will's groin, balancing delicately as he lowered himself. For a moment Jack held Will's gaze with his eyes, watching the surprise and then the lust, but eventually he concentrated his efforts on relaxing. Jack let his head loll back and Will marveled at the sight of Jack's neck exposed. Then it dawned on Will that he had never seen Jack nude before.

Will watched with semi-glazed eyes as Jack continued to lower himself down over Will's hardness. The muscles in his thighs strained beautifully and he leaned back to balance on his hands. Will watched the undulation of muscles in Jack's forearms and chest and abdomen. Jack breathed deeply and the sheen of sweat over his skin shone brightly in the moonlight. Will wished he had candlelight to see Jack better by. He heard the trinkets of Jack's hair clinking together as the last of Jack's weight settled on Will's body. Will's head fell back with a thud and he moaned discordantly.

Jack waited a moment before he shifted his weight and Will's eyes flew open again. Will tried to keep them focused on Jack's, but had a terribly difficult time of it, what with the incredible pressure and heat of Jack's body. Jack grinned wickedly as he waited for Will to adjust and to calm down. In a few moments, Jack deemed it time to move again, all the while coaxing Will to stay calm. Jack's efforts were of little avail, however, as soon as he began to noticeably enjoy himself. The raspy groan that escaped Jack after a few thrusts made Will feral. In an almost violent fit of passion, Will lifted Jack up by the hips and shoved him back down again. Jack howled his approval and set a bruising pace.

"Jack," Will whined.

He craned his neck to look at Jack, who was too busy to reply, lifting and lowering himself rapidly as he clumsily attempted to use his hand on himself.

"Ah, Jack! I can't wait any longer!" Will gasped, lifting Jack by the hips and pushing him down with remarkable force.

Again Jack howled, slamming his weight down as he climaxed. Will first felt the contractions of Jack's muscles, the astonishing heat and pressure, bringing him to finish. He shouted at the top of his voice, unintelligible sounds mingling with Jack's loud, raucous grunts. Then, Will felt the hot liquid falling on his belly. Finally, Jack rested and they both sat panting.

With a little swagger, Jack lifted himself completely and plopped down onto the bed. He handed Will the rag he had kept about his black-marked hand and Will cleaned himself up. He offered it to Jack, but Jack made a face and threw it onto the floor. With a sigh, Jack sprawled out and let his body cool, the damp of his skin refreshing as it dried in the night air. His lip curled up in a little smile and Will watched him with confusion and fondness. Will thought to speak, but before he could decide what to say, Jack began to snore.


	3. Proper Training

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 2004  
**Notes: **Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

III Proper Training

"Get up, you lazy dog," Will prodded, roughly shoving Jack's shoulder.

Jack murmured some nonsense in reply and fished his hat from the night table to put over his face. Will lifted it off and frowned when Jack pretended not to notice.

"Damn it, Jack," Will muttered.

"Mrmmm… Haven't had enough of me training yet, Mr. Turner?" Jack grumbled teasingly.

"Is that all you ever think of?"

"No…" Jack said, picking his brain for something else he might think of. He reached for his flask and shook it. Empty. "Why is the rum always gone?"

"Ah. And rum. How could I forget?" Will said, eyes rolling good-naturedly.

Jack sat up gradually and hung his feet over the edge of the bed.

"My effects, please," Jack extended his hand for Will to give back the hat. "We'll be needing more rum before this night begins." It was already midday, their midnight romp having tired them out more than expected. No one had come calling and so neither were roused by the cock crow.

Jack took the hat and dressed himself quickly, flashing a lopsided grin in Will's direction before dashing out the door to trade God-knows-what for more rum and oil. Will shouted after Jack not to get into any trouble and Jack waved him off indifferently, trotting away down the road. Will worked during the day to keep his mind busy, but ultimately was too concerned to work very hard. Jack returned a few hours later with a seemingly uncharacteristically large jug. Will squinted his eyes and looked carefully, but could find no evidence of what Jack had traded. Better not to think of it.

Will approached Jack who was gleefully humming a little tune and shouldered the jug to take inside.

"What is it you need to convince me of with all this?" Will asked, only half joking.

"Bilge," said Jack, "the Commodore has done all the hard work already. I won't be bothered convincing you of anything."

Will frowned dramatically at the mention of the Commodore. He would have protested Jack's remark, but Jack cut him short.

"Again with your worrying. You vex yourself. Come inside and have a drink with Captain Jack. Unless, of course, you find my company less than pleasurable." Jack did an exaggerated mimicry of a seductive woman and Will couldn't help but laugh, in spite of himself. His mood lifted immediately and he followed Jack inside.

Will thumped the jug down on the table and produced some mugs from a cabinet. Jack sat down and invited Will to join him with a charismatic wave of his hand. The pair drank until they were quite bawdy, but carefully avoided the motivations for their flirting. Finally, Jack leaned back in his chair and adjusted himself.

"I say, Mr. Turner, are you about ready to begin your training?" Jack asked roguishly.

Will blinked. Suddenly, he wanted to jump ship, but he tried to calm himself and think of his purpose. This, of course, turned his thoughts to the night before and his reservations were considerably diminished.

"Aye," Will bellowed, drink coloring his cheeks. He puffed up his chest and did his best to look dignified. His expression wavered for a moment when Jack sat watching rather than responding. Jack laughed when Will faltered and the chuckle turned into a full belly laugh, which cheered them both.

"Come on," Jack said, "let Captain Jack show you the ropes." With a nod of his head, Jack motioned charismatically for them to begin. He didn't wait for Will to respond, but immediately began to take off his boots and belts.

Jack took the bottle of oil he'd procured and placed it on the table. He took off most of his extraneous clothing and reclined back on the chair, watching Will move through the room. Will anxiously avoided Jack's eyes, removing his jacket and shoes, and seated himself on the chair closest to Jack.

"Don't fret, luv," Jack spoke softly, motioning for Will to approach. Will scooted his chair over. Jack sat up abruptly and made as if to kiss Will, but instead, left his lips tantalizingly close without touching.

"Jack," Will breathed, almost inaudibly.

Jack didn't know what he was waiting to hear, but he decided that was adequate. Jack rose to his feet, grabbing Will by the collar and pulled their faces close.

"Let me have you, Will," Jack growled, hot breath spilling onto Will's face.

Will said nothing in reply, but let his eyes fall closed.

Again using Will's clothes for leverage, Jack pulled Will so close that their knees knocked together. Jack's eyes scanned Will's face for signs of... Well, signs of whatever might impede progress. Finding only bated breath and beads of perspiration, Jack kissed him fiercely. The force of Jack's sudden kiss and the resulting arousal almost knocked Will off his feet. He leaned heavily against the table with his hip as Jack pressed against him. Clumsy with drink, Jack leaned back to breathe.

"Mr. Turner," Jack spoke theatrically, voice deep and hoarse. "I am the teacher this evening and I could begin your training right here."

Will stared dumbly, one eyebrow raised.

"Right on this table," Jack paused for effect.

Will's eyes widened in surprise. He tilted his head and looked quizzically at Jack.

"Right... _Now_." Jack pronounced in an exaggerated parody of seduction.

With a gilded grin, Jack shoved Will backwards onto the table. Will grunted when his back hit the surface and he pulled Jack down by his shirt. Not one to be put off by a little horseplay, Jack put considerable force behind the grinding of his hips. Jack mounted the table expertly and straddled one of Will's muscular legs. This activity very much reminded Will of their last and he moaned in anticipation.

Jack, however, had ideas in mind quite different from the excursions of the previous evening.

"Mr. Turner," Jack spoke between heavy breaths. "I implore you to prepare yourself for something wholly different from what you imagine."

Will nodded. He didn't know what Jack meant, but he was used to that... That and trusting Jack anyway. Jack saw the uncertainty in Will's face.

"Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?" Jack asked.

Will gave him a warning look, but Jack ignored it and stole another kiss. Jack's tongue was probing and hot as he extended it past Will's lips. Will breathed heavily through his nose and tangled his hands in Jack's hair.

"You never answered me," Jack said, pulling away a few inches.

"What?" Will asked, hardly able to think. "Trust you?"

"Let me have you," Jack whispered, more demand than request.

"Aye, Jack," Will bit his lip nervously.

Jack smiled and without making a sound, sat Will up and removed his shirt. Will slumped back down onto the unforgiving wood of the table and Jack stood up to remove what remained of his clothes. As usual, Jack had no reservations about nudity and did not think to pause in removing Will's pants. Will tried to hide his blush as Jack undressed him fully, but he didn't worry long about Jack watching him. Jack bent his head down to lick the salty summer sweat on Will's neck and sighed.

He climbed back up onto the table, wiry limbs straining artfully as he balanced himself over Will's prone body. Jack kissed Will gently to distract him from the finagling of the bottle of oil. He poured some of the oil into his hand, rubbing generous amounts of the slickness over his fingers. Jack put down the bottle and used his clean hand to rub the front of Will's body, the slick hand moving ever-so-slowly back. Will must have known what was coming, but he still twitched when Jack pushed a digit in. He squirmed but didn't wince.

Jack tried to be soothing in his motions and he moved his finger very slowly. Carefully, when Will seemed to have relaxed some, Jack crooked the finger. When he did this, Will gasped, having felt no other sensation akin to it before. The muscles in his legs and back clenched and he arched upward, whining for more. Jack raised a sculpted eyebrow at Will's response. Absolutely fascinating. Undeniably arousing. With a half-stifled groan, Jack slid a second oiled finger in.

This time, Will drew a sharp breath. He whimpered when Jack twisted both fingers, stroking him gently. Poised gingerly on the table, Jack hovered over Will's softly undulating frame. Will's eyes were closed, but the lids fluttered gently and his mouth hung lax, breathing deeply. Jack tried to control himself and he scissored his fingers slowly, taking the time to let Will adjust before adding a third finger.

After a time, Jack decided Will was ready to proceed to more satisfying endeavors. Jack knelt between Will's thighs and coated his own groin with oil. He continued to use his hand on Will, to distract him. Leaning down, Jack kissed him on the neck and slid forward, removing his hand. Will felt Jack's hardness press against him and he shuddered. Jack pushed forward, meeting minimal resistance. Will visibly tried to calm himself and grunted with the effort of allowing Jack entrance.

Their progress was slow and Jack had to remind Will to breathe more than once, but he turned Will's attention frequently, rubbing him with his hands and kissing him. This did at least for much as Will as it did for Jack, who was frequently overwhelmed by the heat and pressure of Will's body. Jack pushed slowly and steadily forward for what seemed like forever until their torsos were joined. When Will realized Jack could push no further, he let his head fall back and he heaved a sigh, relaxing himself.

"That's it, luv," Jack said. "It will get easier."

"Don't talk," Will breathed. "I want you. I want more of you."

Jack didn't need any more convincing. He groaned with arousal and pulled backward, preparing to thrust. Jack shifted his weight and adjusted his hips, searching for the same spot he stroked in Will earlier with his finger. He knew he found it when Will gasped and latched his hands tightly to Jack's shoulders.

Jack considered this an encouragement and he pulled back, thrusting again at the same angle. He repeated the motion until Will was panting with exertion. When he was certain that Will was adequately fervent, he pushed harder, using a hand on Will's hip for leverage. Then, realizing he was quite close to Will's arousal, he ran his hand down. At Jack's unexpected touch, Will breathed in sharply. His exhale was shaky and Jack could feel in the muscles of Will's body that he was close to finish.

"Ah, Jack..." Will began. "Jack, you feel... Ah, you feel..."

"Gods, Will, say it!" Jack spat.

"More, Jack," came the breathy reply. "You feel so good."

"Aye, Will," Jack half shouted.

Jack leaned against Will's chest and thrust with all his force. Will wrapped his arms around Jack's back, pulling him close and entwining their legs. He flung back his head and moaned Jack's name, arching into every thrust. Then, Jack felt the spasms of Will's body as he sped toward climax. The pressure around Jack's hardness increased unbearably as Will rocked back and forth almost violently. Finally, Jack cried out his completion as Will spilled over his hand. Jack slowed to a stop and kissed Will tenderly before untangling their limbs.

Getting up from the table, Jack carelessly handed Will a piece of someone's clothing from the floor to clean himself with. He helped Will off the table and sent him to bed, saying he would need the rest for his engagement with the Commodore. Will rubbed his tailbone and did as he was told, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts. Little did he know, Jack would be spending the rest of the evening contemplating his course of action in acquiring Will's precious compass without the unpleasantry of sending his innocent mate into the hands of a decidedly not-so-innocent Commodore.


	4. Paying the Debt

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 1,949  
**Notes: **Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

IV. Paying the Debt

"Let's dispense with the pleasantries, shall we, Commodore?" Jack asked sternly.

"Very well. You have nothing to offer me, Sparrow. I don't want your compass and I know that you don't have it. What else could possible be within your power that's worth trading?" Norrington replied icily.

"Will came to you because you promised him a way to his father. Do you think I'm so daft I can't figure out what that means? I don't give a damn for that compass. What you ask of Will to trade for it is unfair. He's barely a man, let alone a man jaded enough by the world to be willing to meet that sort of demand. I, on the other hand, am a pirate. And being a pirate, have many services to offer and far more experience in doing so."  
"Go on," Norrington said, voice cold as ever.

"Let me perform whatever services you intend in his stead. You need not give me the compass. I'd rather him never learn of our deal. Give it to him when he arrives so that you know I don't intend to steal it back. Tell him you've had a change of heart. Tell him anything you like, excepting the truth, but let me settle his debt."

"Your charity is unprecedented," the Commodore hissed sarcastically.

After a few moments of silence, something flickered across Norrington's face. It was gone too quickly for Jack to place and his thoughts were broken by Norrington's voice.

"I accept," he said, motioning toward a door.

Norrington held it open for Jack and they walked down a hall into a furnished bedroom. Jack did not wait to think about the strange, momentary expression. Jack went into the room and took off his hat and coat, placing them on a chair. The Commodore closed the door behind them. Mechanically, Jack stepped out of his boots and untied his sash and belts. The Commodore watched all this with scrutiny. Jack stopped when he was down to only pants and turned to see Norrington fully dressed. He looked Jack up and down, but made no move.

"So, that's how it'll be," Jack muttered with distaste. "Well, if there's something you're wanting me to start with, you'd best tell me what it is."

The Commodore motioned Jack close. He dipped his face to Jack's neck and inhaled the smell of him, but they did not touch. Then, Norrington stepped back and put his fingertips on the center of Jack's chest. His gaze hardened and Jack sensed more than saw the other hand curl into a fist at Norrington's side.

The blow hit Jack in the temple and turned his face to the side. Jack grunted but didn't move. Norrington took the hand from Jack's chest and straightened his face. Jack eyed him unwaveringly as the second blow landed squarely on his nose. This blow sent Jack stumbling and Norrington pursued, striking him several more times about the face. Finally, he shoved Jack onto the bed. Jack sat gratefully. Having put up no fight and making no sound but grunts, Jack welcomed some place soft to sit and rub his bruised face.

Norrington moved away and began to remove his clothes. When Jack looked up again it was because Norrington coughed for attention. He stood in as much undress as Jack, wearing only pants. He motioned Jack to stand up and they stared face to face, expressions harsh and unblinking. Jack was a very stubborn man, but Norrington was fortified by the thought of teaching him a good lesson.

The Commodore motioned Jack to the floor and he sank to his knees, glaring defiantly. Jack did not look up for instruction as he undid the fastenings of Norrington's trousers. He tugged gently at the rigid flesh and wrapped his lips over the tip. Jack thought of clamping his teeth down, but didn't want to destroy his chances at the compass, for Will's sake. If Norrington were to scream, Jack would be immediately outnumbered and there could be no negotiations, not to mention that such a course of action would surely nullify any prior negotiations.

Jack hollowed his cheeks and slid his mouth forward. He could hear Norrington breathe, but he never once moaned or gave any distinct signs of enjoyment. The Commodore instructed Jack to hum, which he did. This at least produced a hissed breath and a shudder, but Jack could pry from him no more than that to make the interaction more human. As Jack thought the Commodore might be approaching completion, he moved Jack's face away. Jack grumbled. For a moment, he'd believed this task might be quick.

The Commodore adjusted himself and motioned toward the bed. Jack scooted up onto the middle of it and waited. Norrington stood weighing his options for a moment and then stepped forward. He knelt on the bed and tugged Jack toward him. He grabbed Jack by the wrist and pulled him up to his knees, positioning Jack on all fours.

"Wait," Jack stopped him. "Let me get oil."

The Commodore considered the request. He wanted to hurt Jack, but the man had a point. Oil was better for them both. Norrington released Jack's arm and nodded his agreement, but watched carefully as Jack went through his effects. Jack, however, did not attempt anything tricky. He retrieved a little bottle of oil, took off his pants and went back to the bed obediently. Jack was noticeably unaroused as he applied the oil to Norrington's groin. He grunted in disapproval.

"I will be expecting your full participation," Norrington growled.

Jack squinted the best he could with his quickly swelling eyelids. Norrington grabbed Jack rather roughly and used his hands on him. Jack frowned.

"Your debt will not be paid until you have spent," The Commodore said darkly.

Jack sighed, but did not argue. He closed his eyes and attempted to will himself to hardness. It was difficult to ignore the differences in manner and scent and circumstance, but Jack forced himself to think of his brief nights with Will and his degree of arousal was finally satisfactory to the Commodore's exacting standards.

"Good," Norrington whispered. "Now, we can begin."

He positioned Jack on hands and knees, his own flesh still coated with slick oil. Giving no consideration to Jack's comfort, the Commodore pushed forward without warning. In his haste, he entered Jack with great force causing Jack to arch his back and hold his breath. The Commodore was infinitely pleased with Jack's reaction. Jack tried to relax and his arousal wavered, but Norrington paid little heed to this and pulled the slender hips backward with startling force. Jack winced and gasped, so Norrington took a moment to reach around to Jack's groin. He pushed and pulled, manipulating the flesh while giving little thrusts until Jack was hard again.

Having been given some time to adjust, Jack was able to maintain arousal in spite of the Commodore's somewhat violent manner. Norrington put a hand on Jack's head and tugged at his hair, pulling his head up. He arched back, using Jack's hair for leverage and pushed again and again, making Jack fight himself not to respond. Jack was sore, but the motion stroked the sensitive gland within him in a very pleasurable way.

There was no harm in enjoying himself, Jack rationalized. He had to perform his duty one way or another and it wasn't as though he'd sworn fidelity to Will. After all, Will had only chosen Jack to teach him to be with another man. It was only by Jack's choice that Will would be saved the burden of that man's touch. Jack thought of the teaching and a moan escaped him. He stopped himself immediately, but the Commodore caught it and deliberately changed his stroke. He pulled back quite far and angled his hips toward the spot Jack so enjoyed. Jack held his breath as he waited for the eventual impact. It did not arrive.

"Commodore?" Jack asked, confused.

Norrington pushed forward slightly, but not enough to be satisfying. Jack shuddered.

"What do you want?" Norrington whispered.

Jack decided he didn't like this game. He didn't respond. Again, Norrington repeated the shallow motion.

"Say it."

"Say what?" Jack played dumb.

"Ask for it." There was a long pause. Jack thought about dignity and loyalty and... and that confounded motion of Norrington's hips! He tried to move his hips forward and back, but Norrington pulled the hand away from Jack's head and held him fast, hands surprisingly strong.

"Please," Jack whispered.

Again, the slow, shallow thrust.

"Commodore, please," Jack whispered louder and with greater passion.

With a low groan, Norrington slid forward, teasingly slow. Jack squirmed and bit his lower lip, wanting more, but being unwilling to ask. A few minutes of this pace, however, removed his inhibitions.

"Damn it, Commodore!" Jack growled.

"Say it!" Norrington shouted.  
"More, damn it, please! I want more," Jack complained loudly, relieved at the release of tension.

Finally, Norrington responded to Jack's plea and heaved his weight forward. Jack cried out loudly, not caring whether anyone might hear. Norrington leaned over and wrapped his arms about Jack's torso, grunting with his efforts. Jack shuddered and writhed almost delicately, making small, rumbling noises of appreciation. He pushed back into Norrington's thrusts, easing the long minutes of previous desperation out of mind.

With a sudden flurry of movement, Jack spun around and untangled himself from Norrington's grip. He flipped onto his back and pulled forward the stunned Commodore by the pants he still wore around his thighs. Jack lifted up his knees and wrapped his legs around Norrington's waist. Reluctantly, the Commodore acquiesced and sank down over Jack, letting his weight be guided. Jack pulled him down with his feet and kissed him. In protest of the sudden intimacy, Norrington kept his mouth closed and did not respond except by entering Jack with yet more force. Jack, however would not take no for an answer and grabbed Norrington by the hair.

"Do you want me to spend?" Jack breathed.

"You will pay your debt," Norrington replied between thrusts.

"Then, make me," Jack whispered and pulled the Commodore down to his level.

Norrington kissed Jack hard on the mouth, finally giving in to sensation. He ran his hands up and down Jack's side, feeling the thin frame shake with impassioned breath. Jack clawed ravenously at the Commodore's skin and hair. He lifted his legs toward his chest and Norrington positioned himself around them to deepen his stroke. Jack moaned wantonly as their kiss broke and begged for more.

Norrington held Jack's legs behind the knees an slammed forward with enough force to inch Jack upward on the bed. Jack lifted his arms to brace himself against the stout headboard and growled deep in his throat. It was a noise of defiance and challenge, and the Commodore responded in kind. He pushed himself on Jack brutally, but Jack did not seem to mind. Jack shouted and his body began to twitch as the Commodore forced himself upon him.

The spasms of Jack's release rippled through his muscles and he spent, spilling himself onto his own belly. The contractions of Jack's body took the Commodore by surprise and he nearly screamed, instead, refusing to breathe. Norrington made choked noises of completion and Jack felt the hot spill of release within him. For a few moments, the two twitched in the afterglow of culmination. Jack kissed the neck above him with tenderness and affection, but the Commodore disentangled himself quickly and resumed his previous distance. Jack looked away and reminded himself of his motivations. Will needed that compass. Jack had made sure he would have it.


	5. Clever Commodore

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings**: character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 2,494  
**Notes:** Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

V. Clever Commodore

Will got up in the morning while Jack was still sleeping. He noticed Jack seemed unusually tired, but he was glad for it, as he had business to conduct with Norrington. He made his way slowly to the Commodore's door, alternately contemplating and attempting not to contemplate what awaited him there. Will did not knock, but let himself in and sat down in a chair, his limbs operating without instruction by his mind. Norrington peaked his head out from behind a door when he heard the legs of the chair scuffle on the floor. He smiled bitterly when he saw Will sitting there. If only Jack knew that pirates are not the only men not to be trusted.

"Make yourself at home," Norrington said with a sly grin. He sidled out from behind the door and opened a cabinet, pouring two stiff drinks, one for himself and one for Will. Will hesitated before taking the glass, his mind heavy and distracted. He choked down the drink nervously and his hand shook as he held the glass.

Norrington wiggled the bottle in Will's direction. He held out his glass and had a second drink as quickly as the first. The Commodore chuckled.

"Are you certain of what this compass is worth to you?" He asked Will.

"I am certain it is worth any price within my power to pay," Will said resolutely, keeping his nerve in spite of his state of mind.

"It is not too late to refuse," Norrington assured, knowing full well that Will would not back down.

"My decision has already been made."

Norrington nodded and sat down in a chair across from Will. He would give the boy as many drinks as he would have. They had all day to waste, as Jack could not come calling without revealing his earlier negotiations. The pair did not speak, but had several more drinks before Will was loosened up enough to move about with any ease. Then, the Commodore stood and motioned toward the chamber door. With a furrowing of his brow, Will raised himself and went forward.

He entered a bedroom that was ordinary apart from its scent. It smelled oddly familiar. Then, the realization struck him. The smell reminded him of Jack, and not just the ordinary smell of Jack, who was really quite fragrant at any ordinary moment. Rather, it smelled like the very same scent Will had smelled when he and Jack were together. Norrington noticed the change in expression, although he didn't let on whether or not he understood it as a flash of recognition, although he had long suspected Jack of opportunistic behavior, at the very least.

Will tightened his jaw and shook his thoughts from Jack. He sauntered to the bed, motions tainted with drink, and sat down. Norrington watched him with a critical eye, gauging Will's level of intoxication and resulting comfort level. Will was far from eager, but seemed considerably better off than when he first arrived. The Commodore removed his jacket and sat next to Will on the bed to pull off his shoes. He turned to look at Will who had been watching intently. When he caught his eye, however, Will turned swiftly away and stared into the empty corner of the room.

"Come, now," Norrington said, sounding deceptively friendly. "I'm not so bad."

Will said nothing, but sat nervously and ran his hand over his hair, tucking a stray piece behind his ear. Why did he care so that the room smelled like Jack's peculiar smell? What did it matter that he had been with Jack? Jack was a pirate, surely with many more lovers than Will cared to think about. There was no reason Will must be faithful to him. And so, there was nothing really to stop him from doing what he had to do to save his father. It was this thought that made up Will's mind to make the best of the situation.

With new resolution, Will steadied his racing pulse and moved closer to Norrington who was waiting for he knew not what. Will didn't know exactly what the Commodore had bargained for in terms of seduction, but he knew he had to get the awkward bit out of the way, first. He leaned forward abruptly and surprised Norrington with a hard kiss on the mouth. Stunned but pleased, he kissed Will back, touching the young man's face with a tenderness entirely inappropriate to the situation. Will felt some of his shyness melt away as drink filled his mind, and Norrington's breath filled his nose.

Will tried to imagine that he was engaging not in something that he had to do, but something that he wanted to do. He leaned forward further, placing his hands on the Commodore's shoulders and pushing him to lay back. He acquiesced and Will knelt over him, glad to be maintaining some measure of control. Norrington muttered sounds of appreciation as Will pressed their bodies together. He pushed the collar of Will's shirt over his browned shoulder and put his face to the crease of Will's neck. Still eager to give a good performance, Will took the hint and sat back to remove his shirt. He pulled the coarse white fabric up over his head, slowly revealing the evenly tanned skin.

Norrington watched the display of skin unfolding before him with obvious hunger. His eyelids narrowed and his expression hardened. He watched the contours of Will's muscles move in the indoor light. The softness of Will's skin called to him and his motivations, if ever uncertain, were again etched clearly in his mind. When Will's arms fell to his side and his shirt was discarded, he noticed Norrington's gaze, which made him feel a bit nervous. He lowered his eyes timidly and the Commodore touched his face, trying to be comforting.

Will breathed deeply, reminding himself that he need not have any allegiance with Jack, especially as a bed partner. He reached down and opened the Commodore's shirt, finding it easier to concentrate on busying his hands than look the man in the eye. Eye contact felt far too intimate and he simply could not be sure of the real motivations of the man he was about to lay with. If he looked away he could pretend those motivations were anything he liked. He could enjoy himself if he chose. And he thought it a very worthwhile endeavor to attempt. Will tugged Norrington's shirt, and he sat up to take it off, laying down again with a flop. Norrington sighed and he pulled Will forward by the trousers.

Will sank down over him and bent to kiss his neck. He let his weight rest on the Commodore's chest and he groaned with the sensation of his hardness rubbing against that of the man beneath him. Norrington raised his hips into Will's and pulled him close tightly. Without the reservations of character Jack aroused in him, he allowed Will to kiss him. Indeed, he kissed Will with eagerness, determined to draw out their activities as long as he could. While he had recently become convinced that Will and Jack were involved romantically, or at the very least erotically, and decided this was a partnership he wanted to destroy as badly as he'd wanted to terrorize Will's marriage to Elizabeth, he hadn't forgotten the reason for all the destruction of relationships. Norrington wanted Will for his own. In fact, Norrington had long ago decided that if he could not have Will, no one could. Ever. And he was willing to stop at nothing to achieve his aims.

For now, however, Norrington had better things to fill his mind, as finally, he had Will to fill his bed. He reached about and tugged the tie out of Will's hair so he could run his fingers through it. Will moaned with his face against the Commodore's neck, taking in the feeling of knowing a new lover. He thought about taking on more new lovers in the style of a real pirate, such as he would probably become soon enough, which again brought his thoughts to Jack. He shook himself away from the notion, but Norrington caught the shudder.

"Still thinking of someone else?" Norrington asked.

Will stared blankly, unable to respond.

"Jack's not here," he said coldly, further astounding Will.

"I…" Will stuttered.

"Jack's waiting at home," Norrington assured him.

"How would you know?" Will asked angrily.

"Why because he said so earlier."

"Earlier?" Will asked. He blinked.

"Indeed, Jack paid me quite the visit last evening."

"Paid you… a visit?" Will said, more and more confused as the discussion went on.

"In these very chambers," Norrington answered with a smile. "Said he would be waiting for you at your home to discuss matters of a rather… important variety, once you returned from your negotiations concerning his compass. He made a compelling offer, but ultimately I elected to give it to you, in spite of his efforts."

"Define 'compelling.'" Will spoke through his teeth.

"Well, it was of a nature similar to your own payment…," He paused to let the idea sink in, "But I thought that I should honor our previous commitments."

Will's jaw visibly clenched. No wonder that bastard was so tired this morning. His anger with Jack for betraying him far outweighed any anger he felt that Norrington had brought it up so cruelly. Will had an inkling that Norrington's manner was deliberately hurtful, but he was entirely duped by the lie. He just knew what he had with Jack was too good to be true. He would show Jack just how it felt to be used. With new passion, Will set himself upon Norrington's lips.

"I'll help you forget about Jack," the Commodore said as he pulled away, breathing heavily.

Will moaned and closed his eyes. That was what he wanted more than anything right now: to forget about Jack.

Norrington put his hands about Will's chest and gently pushed him over onto the bed. The linens were fresh and the bed was soft, unlike his own, and he gladly relaxed. The Commodore remarked that Will's eyes seemed nearly as black as Jack's. They were narrowed to lustful slits, and creased with the determination of a lover scorned. Will reached out and pulled him down, no longer possessing his reservations about the act. He clawed brutally at the Commodore and kissed him forcefully.

Will hastily undid the fastenings of Norrington's trousers, and whined when he had trouble shoving them down. The Commodore tore off the remainder of Will's clothes, as Will twisted and turned trying to accommodate him. With a low sigh, Norrington sat up and removed his own pants before climbing back over Will, who laid quite prone. They kissed fervently and Norrington ran his hands sensually over Will's skin. He moved slowly down Will's body with his fingertips, pausing to tease a nipple, twirling the hair below the navel, and finally arriving at his groin.

Will drew a deep, noisy breath when the Commodore finally touched him. He arched into the hand that gripped him, allowing himself to forget everything excepting the feeling. Bits and pieces of jumbled words escaped his lips until Norrington covered them with his own. Will had to remind himself not to be greedy and he ran his hand over Norrington's chest and down between his legs. Norrington's mouth fell slack for a moment and he shifted his weight toward Will's hand.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked Will.

"Aye, Commodore," Will replied breathily.

"James," he corrected.

"James," Will whispered.

Norrington quickly raised himself and went to his cabinet where he kept a little bottle of oil. With unusual haste, he went back to the bed and began to rub himself with oil. His hand coated in the slickness, he placed it between Will's legs and back. With a tentative finger, he pushed into Will, who resisted him, but did not verbally object. His breath hissed and his back arched slightly, and he held his partner close to his chest. After hardly any time for Will to adjust, Norrington added a second finger and twisted it.

Will gasped and writhed when the Commodore used his hand on him. His sighs were loud and extended and he begged for more. Norrington knelt between Will's knees.

"I want you," Will breathed, "to make me forget."

Without another thought, Norrington positioned himself over Will and pushed himself forward. He did so with a significant lack of consideration, in spite of himself. He didn't want to hurt Will, but in his eagerness, he forced his way rather quickly.

Will grunted and groaned under the Commodore's weight. He concentrated on the newly familiar feeling of being entered by a lover and did his best to relax. When Will winced at a small thrust, Norrington caught himself, slowing his pace. His breath was hot and noisy below Will's ear as he let his weight sink gradually forward. Will moaned, impassioned with the fervor of revenge, when he felt his body pressed fully against his new partner.

Norrington made low noises, deep in his throat, as Will threw back his head. He sucked at the artfully exposed neck, pulling the skin to a fresh, red mark. Will lifted his legs above Norrington's and wrapped them around his hips, angling his body upward. Newly aroused by Will's wantonness, the Commodore began to thrust with more force. Will pulled him close with arms and legs, and kissed him enthusiastically. Will gasped and shook with every thrust, yet he felt it was not quite enough.

"Your hips," Will began, but was delayed by a hard thrust.

Norrington grunted.

"Commodore…" Will choked out.

"James," he panted in reply.

"James," Will repeated, "your hips…"

Again Will paused for a hearty thrust.

"Tilt them up."

Norrington did as Will asked and tilted his hips, the fantastic stimulation of which made Will whine with pleasure. The Commodore continued the motion that Will so enjoyed until they rocked against one another, heaving their bodies into each repetition. Inexperienced as he was, Will was soon gripped by the inability to control his release. He cried out, entangling his hands in Norrington's hair and pulling mercilessly, began to climax.

"James," Will gasped.

He pushed harder into Will.

"More!" Will shouted.

With heavy pushes, Norrington let loose a series of startlingly loud grunts as the tightness of Will's body increased around him. Both partners shouted release and their motions faded to stillness.

After a few moments, Will regained his breath and gently pulled away from Norrington's grip. He hastily grabbed a bit of fabric from the nearby chair and cleaned his belly before getting up to dress himself. Norrington watched, satisfied, but dismayed. He could see that Will felt guilty, and probably used. He was going home, now, to hash it out with Jack. Now, it was Norrington's time to wait for the inevitable culmination of his plans.


	6. Reunion

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 3,168  
**Notes:** Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

VI. Reunion

Will stormed through the door when he got home and shouted for Jack to get up as soon as he had the compass adequately hidden. Jack hobbled out of the bed, face swollen and bruised from the previous night's encounter with Norrington, and he squinted in the midday light.

"What the Hell has gotten into you, Jack?" Will demanded.

Jack thought about saying something about the Commodore, but instead he held his tongue. He thought it best to know what he was in trouble for before he admitted to anything. Jack stood silent, poking gingerly at his sore eye.

"Damn it Jack!" Will shouted.

"What is the matter with you?" Jack asked. "And where is the bloody compass?"

"I have it," Will scoffed. "And that compass is the least of my problems."

"What is your problem, then?" Jack retorted defiantly.

"You are my problem." Will spat.

"I am your problem! After all I've done for you, I am your problem!" Jack threw his flask onto the floor and scowled.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? You had to go see him for yourself, did you? Thought you might be missing out on the action? Hah! Did it never occur to you that I was telling the truth when I said that I was only going to him because I had nothing else to barter?"

"What _are_ you on about?" Jack hissed.

Will looked at Jack with concern, both of them visibly confused. Will sighed at Jack's obvious ignorance.

"He told me everything," Will admitted.

"Bastard," Jack whispered.

"I should've known that pirates are never to be trusted," Will shook his head, anger diminishing to sadness, and turning away from Jack.

"Wait… What?" Jack said, turning Will back by the shoulder.

Will shook off Jack's hand and turned, eyes fiery with disappointment.

"What did he tell you?" Jack implored, softening his tone to pry the information from Will, whose resolve was like stone when it came to secrets.

Will glared at him.

"Tell me, please. Tell me what happened," Jack whispered. Something about the way his voice wavered and his eyes begged made Will give in.

"He told me…" Will began, but couldn't continue. He didn't want Jack to hear his voice crack.

Jack waited and Will gave a little cough.

"He told me… That you paid him a visit. A, uh… visit of a very intimate nature." Will swallowed hard.

"I didn't want you to find out, Will," Jack protested.

"Of course you didn't!" He cut Jack short. "You would much rather bed anyone you like as though people are merely treasures!"

"Will…" Jack reached out.

"Don't you put your filthy, vagabond hands on me!" Will spun away defiantly.

"Will, listen to me!" Jack shouted at the top of his voice.

Will was startled into submission for a moment and he listened.

"Will, I did not go to Norrington for pleasurable company. I went there to barter myself in your stead in exchange for his silence and your compass. I asked him to give it to you and make up some excuse for why he decided not to make you pay. I see, now, that he is far less trustworthy than I believed." Jack's shoulders slumped and his brow furrowed.

"You… Jack… That doesn't make any sense."

"Why doesn't it make sense, Will? That's precisely what happened and I asked him to give the compass to you himself so that you would never have to know, for fear that you wouldn't have me, or fear that you'd feel badly. But you needn't. You've saved my skin enough times that I owed you a favor of the highest kind. And it certainly won't be the first time I've bedded a man of rank for a bit of his… privilege."

"Jack, don't lie to me anymore. If you'd given the Commodore what he wanted I wouldn't have…" Will paused to find the words, "come home at so late an hour."

"He didn't… You didn't…" Jack couldn't complete a sentence. His face flushed red with rage.

Immediately Jack went for his pistol. He fumbled with it like a drunk and headed for the door, half his clothes still missing.

"Get back here," Will went after him and held him fast by the arm.

"I'll kill him!" Jack shouted. "Let me loose, damn you! The Commodore has played his last game with you, Will!"

Will stood statuesque, refusing to loose Jack's arm. Jack said nothing, his nostrils flaring with anger. Several deep breaths put Jack somewhat closer to sanity and Will was able, with much effort, to drag him inside.

"Don't be a fool, Jack. If you don't stay hidden, the entire royal navy will be after you. And even if you made it as far as the Commodore's chambers in your state of mind… and undress…" Will paused, looking Jack up and down, "the moment you killed him, all would be lost. And then how would you ever repay your debt to me, and to my father?"

Jack pursed his lips. He knew Will was right, but his blood lust overwhelmed his reason.

"Listen to me, Jack," Will soothed. "You can't kill Norrington. I went to him with willingness when I thought you had betrayed me."

Jack was so stunned, he couldn't make a sound. He stared at Will, whose expression betrayed his regret and pain and fear. Jack turned and sat at the table, facing the wall. He fumbled for his flask and took a hearty swig.

"I don't see why I can't kill him," Jack muttered. "Doesn't make any bit of difference to me. He double crossed me. Worse, he double crossed you."

"If not for his bargain, I would never have had the nerve to…" Will paused and then finished almost too rapidly to be understood, "would never have had the nerve to lay with you."

"You would've come to my side eventually," Jack said stubbornly, "Curiosity."

Will snorted.

"Let me kill him, Will," Jack said hotly.

"Leave him alone. There is nothing more he can do to harm us. He has nothing that we value. Let him live a long and lonely life. He almost ruined us once, but if you kill him you will ruin us for certain."

This time, Jack snorted.

"You know it's true. If you're jailed, I'll have to break you out. And if he finds us still together, which he will surely be waiting for me to come for you, then he will try to kill us both. The odds are not in our favor to escape that first battle, but even if they were, we would be forced to leave Port Royal and flee any place that might find us within the reach of the royal navy. And if that is the case, I stand no chance ever to free my father. In fact, for that, I might have to leave you to hang."

Jack stood abruptly.

"Do you care for him?"

Will swallowed.

"Do you care for him!" Jack shouted.

"For a moment… For a moment, I did."

Jack turned away again. He breathed deeply and Will watched his shoulders move rhythmically. After a few minutes, Jack turned round again.

"Will you go to him again?" Jack asked with surprising calm.

"No," Will shook his head. "I care for you too much for that."

"He's a violent man, anyway," Jack jeered.

"Did he do this to you?" Will reached toward Jack's face.

Jack pulled away swiftly and nodded.

Will's jaw clenched and his face turned crimson.

"Will…" Jack tried to comfort him.

"Bastard. I should kill him."

Jack gave Will a warning look and they both stood still, breathing heavy with emotions.

It felt like an eternity went by and Will wanted to do something. Something drastic. He wanted to slam Jack into a wall. He didn't know if he'd rather kiss him, or finish the job Norrington had started. Jack caught the look in Will's eye and made the move for him.

Jack came forward swiftly and grabbed Will by the collar, kissing him fiercely. Will tangled his hands in Jack's hair and tugged it, anger and relief and lust mingling into a single, violent passion. With an astonishing flurry of motion, Jack took the collar he held and pulled, tearing Will's tunic in half. With better access, Jack ran his hands over Will's skin. He knew someone else had been there last, but the skin felt just as it did the first time they were together, and that was a good deal of comfort to him. It was irrational, Jack knew, and Will was his, but he felt better all the same.

Will looked down at his ruined shirt and narrowed his eyes. With both hands, he took Jack by his bare shoulders and swung him around, slamming his back into a wall. Jack grunted, but smiled. Will felt as though Jack's black eyes could see right into him, and they must have, because he shoved Will away from their almost-kiss and walked his silly walk into the bedroom. Will followed quickly, and was in time to watch Jack undress and plop himself onto the bed. Jack grinned wickedly, but didn't ask Will to join him. He simply sat there, staring smugly at Will.

"I should beat you every bit as badly as Norrington did," Will said, stepping forward, still angry for Jack's indiscretions, and possibly also for his own.

"If you're really intent on destroying me," Jack teased, "there would be far more clever ways to go about it."

"Then I suggest you prepare yourself," Will said stoutly, trying to hold back a grin.

He stripped off his clothes almost playfully and climbed onto the bed with Jack. With haste, he shoved Jack onto his back and pinned him. Jack grunted when Will kissed him, his nose sore from the blows. Will took his lips away and winced apologetically, but Jack flashed his golden teeth and pulled Will down again. Jack was generally up for a bit of pain with his pleasure, but Will was careful, which revealed that in spite of his game, he was still protective of Jack. Jack thought it was rather silly, but he couldn't deny how terribly arousing he found it.

With a grateful moan, Will let his weight down on Jack's bare skin. He ground their hips together, and licked Jack's neck delicately. For a little while, Jack allowed himself to be pampered, and he relished the attention Will lavished on his body. Eventually, however, Jack was desperate to pamper Will in return, at the very least to make up for their argument, but more so to take in every possible sensation associated with the partner he had almost lost.

Jack picked his head up off the bed and looked at Will, giving him warning that the tables were about to turn. Then, he sat up, taking Will with him. He tossed Will gently onto his back and growled. Will sighed when Jack lowered himself to put his mouth to Will's skin. He began at the neck and moved down Will's body, taking his time with his lips and tongue. Will groaned and whispered encouragement as Jack neared his groin, and Jack wasted no time in falling to task.

Forgetting about everything else, Will pondered that there might be no more fantastic thing on this earth than Jack's mouth. It was clear to him that Jack knew precisely how a man should be touched. Still, he knew Jack was his and his alone, and he felt no jealousy at Jack's experience. Indeed, Will was glad to have someone to take the lead and smooth over the rough spots in their interaction. Jack hollowed his cheeks and pulled back after a time, sitting up, and alerting Will. Jack motioned him to relax and fetched a bottle of oil. Will cared not to ask where it came from or how Jack paid. Jack poured a bit into his hand, but Will stopped him.

"I'm too sore," Will whispered.

Jack's jaw clenched, but he did everything in his power to keep his temper, and not run down the road in the nude to kill Norrington.

"I'm sorry, Jack…" Will blushed.

"Don't be. Everything is fine, now," Jack assured, brought back to his senses by Will's voice.

Will smiled sheepishly.

"Besides, do you think I only think of myself?" Jack asked sternly.

Will raised an eyebrow.

"Don't answer that," Jack said, scrunching up his face, and Will laughed.

Jack poured more oil into his hand and rubbed it along Will's length. Will lolled back his head and sighed, concentrating on the texture and heat of Jack's hand. This, of course, made Will think of their first encounter and he raised himself up. Jack sat back on his haunches and allowed Will room to situate himself.

Will took Jack by the shoulders and pushed him onto his back. Jack extended his legs and pulled Will down over him, raising his hips slightly into the motion. Will positioned himself between Jack's thighs and rubbed himself over the varying textures of Jack's body. Will took the time to feel scars and bones, callous and muscles. Jack, on the other hand, was well beyond the point of thought. He breathed deeply, but unevenly and he let himself be fully involved in the feeling of Will's hands and skin and breath.

"Jack," Will whispered, his voice trembling and soft.

"Mmm?" Jack said, half-opening one eye and looking less than attentive.

"I only want you," he confessed. Jack knew this was very serious emotional business and he did his best to snap to attention. He smiled gently and touched Will's face with his fingertips.

"I know," Jack breathed. "And you shall have me."

Will sighed decadently at Jack's words and bent his head to kiss him. The heat of Jack's breath spilled into Will's nostrils as he inhaled, and his head spun. His blood pounded in his ears and chest and groin, and his desire was stoked to a fine, hot flame. Jack whispered into his ear, the wiry hairs of his moustache brushing gently against Will's sensitive skin, but Will did not hear the words. He heard the rumbling of Jack's deep, raspy voice and felt the vibration of his breathing.

Jack reached for Will's length and ran his hand over it, testing that the amount of oil would be sufficient. Will groaned and closed his eyes as Jack pulled him, guiding him forward. Jack inhaled deeply and used his legs to pull Will into him, setting a tortuously languid pace. Will held his breath as he slid forward, overwhelmed by the power of holding himself above Jack.

Entering Jack was every bit as stunning and arousing as it had been the first time, if not more, as the vantage point had changed. Will breathed deeply and concentrated his efforts on calming himself so he wouldn't hurt Jack. Jack's breath hitched and expelled with little regularity as Will slid forward, pushing ever-so-slowly into Jack's body. Jack coaxed him on with short words of encouragement and praise, as often as he was able to remain aware enough to do so.

Will listened carefully to the sounds of Jack's breath, taking note of every pitch, every sigh, every change. He did his best to gauge Jack's level of arousal, the things that he liked, the things that hurt. Will tilted up his hips slightly, looking for the spot he knew must be there. Jack groaned when Will found it and raised the middle of his back up off the bed. Jack wrapped his thin limbs about Will's body, grasping and writhing in response to every thrust.

He took Will's face between his hands and kissed him. Jack probed his eager tongue forward, extending it toward Will's. Their touch at first was tentative, delicate. As Jack's passion swelled, however, he opened his mouth wider and held his tongue rigidly imposing. Their mouths moved in perfect rhythm, each knowing the next move of the other and never stumbling. With a sudden intake of breath, their kiss broke and Will arched his back as he thrust. Jack clenched his jaw and braced himself, breathing deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring.

In spite of his caring, Will was near merciless in his pace, and for that Jack was undoubtedly grateful. He rocked into the peak of each repetition, using his legs to increase the power of Will's motion. Will grunted with his efforts and buried his face in Jack's hair, pushing as hard and as fast as he thought Jack could possibly tolerate. Then, with a choked breath, Will realized he was nearing completion and he tried to slow himself.

"Will," Jack whispered harshly. "Don't stop. For God's sake, don't stop."

Will groaned deep in his throat and he shoved his weight forward onto Jack's prone frame.

Jack curled himself up around Will, arms wrapping about his back and legs lifting to deepen the stroke. He moaned unabashedly and spouted words that Will found shocking, but unusually arousing. Will felt Jack's muscles contract and his breath hitched as they both sped rapidly toward climax. Jack called out Will's name in passion at the last moment of his orgasm, his shout raspy and exaggerated with breath, the sound of which finally undid Will, who had held back until the last possible moment.

Finally feeling satiated, Will rolled off Jack, their bodies momentarily resisting separation, stuck with sweat and tensed muscles. Jack sighed and smiled at Will, rubbing the bruises on his face. He accepted a cloth from Will to clean himself up and wordlessly, they seemed to agree that nothing could ever come between them again. The silence, however, was made bittersweet by the knowledge that a dangerous mission to rescue Bill Turner lay just ahead. Jack stroked Will's hair as much to calm his own mind as to calm Will's and they both relaxed their bodies, if not their minds, in preparation for future hardships.


	7. A Collecting of Dues

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** This Chapter: PG-13 Overall: NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count: **1801  
**Notes: **Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

VII. A Collecting of Dues

Will and Jack set out in relatively high spirits, compass in hand and ship newly borrowed, as it were. Jack had proved quite busy on his excursions, and had their voyage well-prepared before Will had even given thought to how they might set sail. They did so with haste and secrecy, to ensure that they would not be found out by the Commodore. Will spread a rumor that Jack had set off for fairer weather and better rum, and they sailed into the pale horizon.

Jack distanced himself from the compass, eying it cautiously from across the deck as Will stood at the helm. Will distanced himself as well, although it was not for fear of distraction from the compass, but for fear that intimacy with Jack would impair his readiness for the coming confrontation. Jack let the issue lie, not wanting to stir up conflict, in spite of his imminent desire. Instead, Jack stewed in rum and fear, not at all anxious to meet with Davy Jones a second time.

Will swiftly and easily navigated them to an island with many ships at port. They kept abreast of it and then took a smaller boat into the port under the cover of night. There was a scuffle on deck and they were compelled to defend themselves most fiercely, but the conflict was relatively quick and did not arouse suspicion, at least while they remained on shore. With a quickness, the heart was retrieved and the stealthy pair made haste back to their ship at anchor.

At first, the two thought that Davy Jones would not be able to find them, since he was thwarted in discovering the heart before, but he sought them out quickly, sensing the presence of himself on the sea. With a flurry of water and wind and sound, the Flying Dutchman rose from the great depths and loomed forbiddingly beside Jack's ship. Jack cringed when he heard the heavy peg leg pounding across their deck, making quick way toward Will.

Jack ran quickly under the deck, fleeing like a coward, but little did the crew of the Dutchman know, he was hiding himself so he could guard the heart unobserved - this was the only way to defend Will against the tyranny of Davy Jones. No suspicions arose and Will remained on deck to make negotiations.

"Surrender my father," Will demanded, staring unwaveringly into the strange, slimy face of the ship's captain.

"Where is it?" Jones growled.

"My father first," Will insisted.

Jones huffed and the tentacles of his face twitched with anger and tension. He turned back toward his ship and motioned to the crew. Bill Turner was shoved from the ranks and he gained the deck, eyes shining brightly with surprise and hope and apprehension.

Will breathed deeply, chest heaving and nostrils flaring. He stood firm, waiting for Jones to make a move.

"You will bring him forward unharmed. Let us go free and do not sink our ship. I will be expecting your blessing in future passages," Will stated resolutely.

"You may have the man and the ship, but Davy Jones gives no blessings."

"I insist," Will's voice sounded deeply.

Jones motioned to his crew and they stepped forward, preparing to board and search Jack's ship. Below, Jack heard the commotion and showed himself on the deck, heart in one hand, dagger in the other. With a start, Jones waved his arm and the crew halted. Jones huffed and looked back and forth several times before giving his word and shoving Bill Turner forward. Bill scurried across the deck and stood behind Will.

Jack put the heart back into its bag and looked to Will who nodded. Jack took the cue and tossed it across the deck to Jones who snatched it greedily from the air. With a slight bow and a surprisingly quick scurrying, Jones disappeared back onto his ship which promptly sank back to the depths. In a moment, the skies cleared and the sea was calm. The blessing of Davy Jones, indeed.

As Jack, Will and Bill sailed off toward the horizon, finally reunited, Norrington took also to sail, having determined with the compass before he gave it away, the location that Will would choose next to go. Jack broke out a special store of rum and it was consumed with great mirth and merriment. Bill began to look much like his normal self, albeit grizzled and waterlogged. Will's disposition warmed considerably, though he was still reluctant to be affectionate with Jack. Jack wasn't sure whether it was because he had no more motivation to do so, being unable to gain anything more than a warm bad, or whether it was for the benefit of Will's father. Indeed, Bill Turner would surely have found their interactions surprising, to say the least.

Bill asked them to return him to land and they gladly obliged, as Bill wanted nothing more than to roam free and dry on something that feels unmoving, which seemed a more than reasonable request to Will. He, too, longed for rest and land and peace. When they arrived at the nearest island, Bill thanked Will up and down and praised him for what seemed like hours before running off for decent food and pleasurable company. Jack gave him a few shillings. He hadn't changed much, that was for sure.

Will sent Jack off the ship for provisions, knowing Jack's skills for attaining good things that he perhaps had not earned, and stayed behind thinking. He paced the ship, checking for any faults, counting all the supplies, and busying himself with arbitrary tasks to steady his mind. Will heard footsteps thumping along the deck and he finally felt at ease. This was not the shuffling gait of his father, so it must be Jack, back with supplies and fortifying rum. Will turned to face him with a smile but found a different figure blocking the light from pouring down into the belly of the ship. Will squinted to discern the face from the light behind him when the realization struck.

"Commodore!" Will whispered. Norrington stepped forward into the even light of the hold.

"I've come to collect my due," he said, calculated and quiet.

"I owe you nothing," Will said, spine straightening and resolve hardening.

"Ah, Will, but that is where you're wrong," he replied.

When Jack returned, he found the ship was very quiet. He surveyed the deck and found it had been cleaned, so he figured Will must be tidying below deck. Normally, he would have been right, but when he looked into the hold, it was every bit as quiet as the deck. Jack noticed a few things overturned and he thought it unusual, as Will was famously tidy in his chores. Perhaps, Will had to run off the ship for a moment, or perhaps he had simply forgotten something from another area of the ship. Jack refused to accept the possibility of something seriously wrong, but he could not shake his concern.

Jack paced across the deck, listening to the silence and made his way toward the Captain's quarters. Perhaps, Will was simply napping. Indeed, Will could be anywhere… taking a swim, buying more rum, trailing his father… Jack swung open the door and was nearly bowled over by the sight confronting him. There were two chairs facing the door. In one of them sat the Commodore, pistol in hand, and in the other sat Will, bound and gagged. Will breathed heavily and choler colored his cheeks. He did not attempt to speak to Jack, but sat in mute fury. Jack could tell the fight had been unfair, and decided against speaking as well, with Norrington's pistol leveled at his head.

"I have come to collect my due," Norrington finally spoke.

"He owes you nothing," Jack said, motioning to Will who followed the interaction with his eyes.

"It is you who owes," came the reply, intentionally vague.

"What exactly do I owe you, Commodore?" Jack asked, his tone sharp as a blade.

"You owe him to me," Norrington answered, "as a prevailing officer of the Royal Navy, it is my duty to return your captive to his rightful place, with or without his cooperation."

"Nonsense," Jack spat, "what is the real reason you're here?"

"I am here to collect my due," his manner was flat and cold.

"What is that due?"

"Your fortune, in its entirety, is my due. Whatever you may be wanting in character, the Queen sees it fit to deprive you comparably of your riches. You shall not be allowed to parade the failure of good people as your own success. My due is your fortune," Norrington spoke eloquently, "and your life."

"It is not unfair to deprive a man so wanting from the only things which he does not want?" Jack asked with a swagger.

"I am less concerned with what you want than with what I want."

"Aha, so the truth be told," Jack said with a sarcastic smile, "fear not, Commodore, for there is no man without a fault. What you are wanting in fulfillment and adventure, if not righteousness, I can surely teach you to enjoy."

"Enough of your talk," the Commodore growled, fighting the contortion of rage within him. "Sit."

Norrington stood from his chair and offered it to Jack with a wave of his hand. Jack sat, eyeing the pistol nervously. He bound Jack to the chair and warned the pair sternly that if they moved, it would be their deaths. He disarmed Jack and went to the helm, taking their small ship quickly from port, glad to have caught them while Bill Turner was still ashore. He propped the wheel on its course and went back to the cabin where Jack and Will struggled obstinately at their bonds.

"Predictable," Norrington noted as they strained to free themselves.

"Where are we sailing?" Jack demanded.

"To a place where justice can be served," He replied, flicking Jack's old compass from his pocket and checking the bearing.

Jack frowned, but decided not to push his luck. For the second time that day, Norrington leveled his gun at Jack's head. He untied Jack with the free hand and hauled him to his feet.

"Walk," Norrington commanded.

He marched Jack up to the deck and tied him to the mast, where he would be easily visible and well within the range of shot from the helm. The same treatment he gave to Will, tying them each with separate ropes and differing knots to slow their progress in escaping, should the worst occur. He took his place at the wheel and sailed them for the nearest accessible, but isolated island. The weather was unusually fair and Norrington mused over how Jack had acquired the blessing of Davy Jones.


	8. The Deed Done

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 1,362  
**Notes:** Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you

VIII. The Deed Done

With the blessing of Davy Jones guiding their ship, Norrington sailed it gently and successfully to the edge of the land and dropped anchor. He removed Will from the mast and brought him back to the cabin where he was to resume his former place in the chair. Norrington went back for Jack, this time with shackles. He bound Jack by the wrists and led him to the bed, motioning him to sit.

"Have you told Will that you paid me a visit?" the Commodore asked Jack.

"Will knows, we both know, all that has happened," Jack replied icily.

"And does he know," Norrington bent low near Jack's face, "how you gasped and shouted and begged?"

Jack was silent. Will clenched his jaw.

"Does he know how you squirmed and writhed and spilled your seed at my hand?"

"And do you know there is nothing you can say which would be ugly enough to make him despise me as he despises you?"

Norrington snarled and struck Jack across the face with his pistol. It produced a grunt in Jack, but he did not struggle. Will strained against his bonds.

"Do you think it would be ugly enough if he saw you manipulated at my hand by his own eyes?" hissed Norrington.

"Do what you will, you have no power over me," Jack whispered.

"Aye, but I do," Norrington spoke softly. He drew a small knife and put it to Jack's belly. Jack frowned deeply, but didn't flinch. Seeing the reaction was less than exaggerated, he flung about and put the knife to Will's neck. Will ground his teeth together as the knife pricked the tender skin above his collar.

"Fine," Jack shouted. "Whatever it is you want of me, you shall have it!"

"Then you will show him precisely how wanton you can be at the hands of another."

Norrington motioned Jack to stand and he stripped him to the waist, leaving his shirt hanging over the shackles on his wrists. Jack swallowed hard and stood very still as Norrington watched him.

"I will be expecting your full participation," the Commodore declared.

"Sounds familiar," Jack sneered.

"Then, I will not have to explain to you how you are required to participate."

Jack set his jaw and stepped forward, reaching for Norrington's belt. Norrington made as if to kiss Jack, but Jack turned his face away adamantly.

"What makes you so shy, Sparrow? Perhaps I shall have to give you further incentive," Norrington threatened.

Jack winced as the Commodore walked over to Will and flicked a little cut into the skin of his face. He looked over at Jack's reaction and held the knife menacingly. Jack wasn't keen to the game, but he understood and was eager to disarm Norrington. He stepped forward and raised his bound hands to the Commodore's shirt, pulling him forward into a hard, sensual kiss. He didn't look at Will, knowing that if he did, he would be unable to continue and the sooner it was done, the sooner he could escape.

Norrington shoved Jack back onto the bed and tore off his boots and breeches. Jack was decidedly unaroused which riled the Commodore further and he mounted Jack's lap, expertly avoiding the knees. He had the knife firmly in grasp when Jack tried, mistaking Norrington for being distracted, to take it away. With a flash, Norrington cut open Jack's palm and stood, scowling. Again, he cut a small nick into Will's face and Will grunted. Jack grimaced more at the small cut on Will's face than the rather large one in his own palm, though he found it hurt a good deal.

"Try that again and I will cut off the boy's fingers," Norrington roared.

Jack gripped the shirt around his wrists to soak up the blood, and hopefully stop it from flowing. He said nothing.

"Do I make myself clear!"

"Inescapably," Jack muttered. He looked at Will's widened eyes with apology, but his sorry state seemed to prevent any sympathy from Will.

"Now," the Commodore began again, "I will be expecting your full participation!"

"Aye," Jack murmured.

Norrington stretched over Jack so that their bodies were flush and kissed him severely. Jack, at first, was resistant, but did his best to appear genuine. Nonetheless, his brows furrowed when the Commodore pushed his hand down to Jack's groin. Jack did all he could to transport his mind to another place and time, willing himself to ignore the presently distasteful circumstance. He intentionally evoked the memories of harlots and lovers and a variety of enjoyable sensations, and he felt the blood familiarly flowing to his groin.

After all, what was a pirate if not an opportunist of all kinds? Jack mused over a hundred reasons why he might allow himself arousal and push away guilt, yet he still wavered. The Commodore, however, was patient and uncharacteristically ardent. He kissed Jack's neck and ran his hands sensually over Jack's skin. Dexterous fingers tempted Jack's flesh, teasing over a sensitive nipple, a vulnerable thigh. Jack caught himself sighing and shut his mouth. Norrington caught the sigh also and smiled maliciously.

Norrington gave no heed to Will's presence other than that he strove to cause Jack to cry out. He took oil from the drawer near the bed with a single hand, while the other hand removed his breeches. The Commodore climbed back into the bed and knelt between Jack's knees. Jack laid unclothed save the shackles which prevented the full removal of his shirt. He breathed deep and even, concentrating with all his effort on removing himself mentally from the situation in order to maintain arousal.

On the other side of the room, Will clenched his jaw and breathed jaggedly through his nose. He tried to keep his eyes closed, but had little success. He was angry with Jack for his ability to do as Norrington asked, but neither was he inclined to be sliced up. He was torn by feeling grateful that Jack was willing to attempt this horrible act to save Will whatever it was that Norrington intended. Will didn't at all know what to think; he was jealous, angry, frightened, appreciative, and above all disturbed. Norrington had clearly gone mad.

Will was compelled back to the scene before him when he heard Jack's familiar grunt. Jack had his legs wrapped about Norrington's bare back, with his own back arched and his bound hands above his head. Norrington sank down onto him, his weight settling into Jack's trembling body. Norrington whispered into Jack's ear and Jack groaned. Will had no way of knowing that Jack was being commanded to respond, on pain of Will's imminent suffering. Will's face flushed with anger, yet he fought against feeling stimulated by the sight. The change of vantage point merely offered him a strange, but undeniably erotic new way to observe Jack's passion.

Norrington instructed Jack to moan and Jack complied. Not wanton enough. Jack moaned again, louder. He shifted his weight, and under the Commodore's command, arched his back, curled his toes, drew a deep breath. Norrington orchestrated a whole host of motions and sounds to perfectly imitate a candid interaction. It was believable enough that Will was unable to distinguish the authenticity. Will saw Norrington's hand reach between them and he knew the hand must be touching Jack, who moaned convincingly.

All the while Will watched Norrington's jaw move but could not hear more than a murmuring, indistinct whisper. He wondered what sort of words could manipulate Jack so. Will wanted to memorize them for himself. Norrington was telling Jack to spend, asking him to think of Will, reminding him that Will's hide depended on it.

"This won't bring you what you want. For his sake, not mine nor yours, I concede," Jack whispered his defiance.

Jack shuddered his exhale and his eyes fluttered shut. The Commodore gasped with surprise and threw back his head. With a final shout, Jack spent and Norrington had no choice, still in his state of shock, but to spend also. He pitched forward violently and Jack accepted his weight. Jack turned his face away and cringed. The deed was done.


	9. Final Skirmish

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 2376  
**Notes:** Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

VIII. Final Skirmish

Norrington choked a few breaths in and out before he unstuck himself from Jack's sweat-coated skin. He climbed out of the bed and tossed Jack's clothes at him.

"Cover your indecency," Norrington commanded, pulling on his own breeches.

He stood and watched Jack clothe himself and when he was done, he hauled him out of the room. Norrington pulled a chair outside the door of the captain's cabin and closed it behind him. He shoved Jack into the chair and lashed him to it, hand and foot. He put a gag into Jack's mouth and tested all the bonds, tightening them until Jack couldn't budge more than enough to breathe.

He instructed Jack not to attempt to move and to keep quiet, again threatening to punish Will for any of Jack's mistakes. Jack nodded his agreement and began to struggle as soon as the Commodore went back into the cabin. If Jack could get free before Norrington returned, he could arm himself, rescue Will, have his revenge after all, and escape. As Jack worked silently at his bonds, Norrington stared Will down inside the cabin. He removed the gag and waited for Will to speak.

"What do you want?" Will asked after a few moments of silence.

"To show you where you belong," came the answer, a cold, strange tone ringing in the Commodore's voice.

"And then?" Will whispered.

"And then, when you see, you will do as you should."

"You have not the capacity to force me. As soon as you release me, I will do as I please."

"Stubborn," Norrington retorted, "I do not intend to force you. When you see where you belong, you will simply comply of your own accord."

Will grunted. There was no sense in arguing. He made up his mind to remain quiet, the previous scene still spinning through his mind and making serious discussion even more difficult than usual. He could wait Norrington out, beat him at his own game. Will would permit him to gain no ground. Norrington was quiet for several minutes, allowing himself a few moments to recover and to watch Will's reactions. The Commodore might have seemed dull, but in spite of his reputations, he considered himself a good judge of character, mood, intent and so on.

"What of what you saw?" Norrington questioned.

Will's face contorted. He blushed, clenched his jaw, and was unable to answer the question posed, out loud or in his own mind.

"You are angry that he has betrayed you. Angry for what he is capable of."

Will nodded. The statement was part question, part assertion.

"And you are happy to have all your fingers."  
Will clenched his fists, nodded again.

"And you are jealous," the Commodore declared, "that the body of a man, a pirate no less, is not possessing of loyalty. That truism applies also to you."

Will swallowed.

"If you tell me that it does not, that you felt nothing beyond jealousy and confusion, I will find it hard to believe," Norrington continued, "nay, I will not believe you if you say that you felt no familiar stirring, no excitement whatever."

Will frowned. Was he aroused merely by Jack impassioned? Or by Jack impassioned specifically with another lover? Was he aroused by Norrington? Was the thing he felt truly an arousal or was it something altogether foreign? Whatever it was he felt, Will made up his mind to say nothing.

"Let me show you, Will, the love of a good man," the Commodore invited. "Let me show you what he cannot give to you. When you have truly known me, you will change your unlawful ways. When you have the knowledge, you will do as you should by your own will."

Will turned his face away and tried to ignore the predicament facing him.

Norrington bent low to kiss Will and caressed the tiny nick on his face. He touched Will's ample bottom lip with his thumb, feeling the texture and fullness. Then, with a sudden motion, he took Will's lips against his own and kissed him fully. Will exhaled sharply into Norrington's mouth. He did not strain as the Commodore's hands pressed against him. Will was confused and vaguely aroused. He couldn't process how to behave, the meaning of the situation, the way he felt.

Overwhelmed by confusion and frustration and arousal, Will allowed Norrington to manipulate him. They kissed warmly and Will could not help but notice how much more gentle Norrington was than he had been when they were last together. He was more gentle even than Jack, whom Will loved and whom he thought, at least before, loved him in return.

The Commodore stood and untied Will from the chair, raising him to his feet. He tugged Will against him by the shirt and ran his hands over Will's back. Norrington pulled off Will's shirt and their bodies pressed together. Will welcomed the soothing touch of his hands and skin. He stumbled backward toward the bed at Norrington's advance. He let himself be lowered onto the bed Jack had only just vacated and tried to empty his mind.

Jack did not care for anyone, Will rationalized. Jack saw him as a possession, not a lover. Jack was not even trying to rescue him. He was sitting outside the door relaxing after his climax, waiting for the next game. Jack cared only for himself. Otherwise, he would have fought Norrington when he had the chance, not made love to him, moaning like a cheap whore. Jack was a liar, Will was a fool, and Norrington had perhaps gone mad. At least, however, Will could have loyalty with him, and security. Will could assure a place for himself and return home. With Jack, life would always be tumultuous. Will would run for the rest of his life like a criminal.

And Norrington clearly loved him, as evidenced by his willingness to show Jack for what he was, to come and bring Will home, to risk himself to attract Will's attention. While Will was distracted in thought, Norrington edged him toward the headboard and shackled his wrist securely. Will's eyes widened and he pulled away from the kiss.

"In case you change your mind," Norrington murmured, "and in case he manages to attempt to take you back."

"I will not have you if you intend to force me," Will said. "You may take what you can take, but you cannot force my inclinations."

"I will not have you if I must force you," Norrington stated with conviction, "but that does not prevent me from taking precautions. Whether you have me or no, I will return you to your proper place."

"What do you want of me?" Will asked with a wince.

"You," the Commodore paused… "Your affections, your company, the passions you share with no other."

Will sighed and his eyes lulled shut as their lips met. With his free hand, he pulled Norrington's face closer and stroked the smooth skin on the back of his neck. The Commodore's hand wriggled under Will's clothes and ran over his skin. Will breathed deeply as the hand extended lower, and Norrington unfastened Will's breeches.

Will moaned sensually and welcomed the solicitous touch. He arched his back into the embrace, letting his thoughts drift away from the painful past and into the soothing present. He listened to the soft words that spilled from Norrington's mouth and readily comforted himself with the supplied affection. Will maneuvered his free hand between their bodies and pulled down his breeches. Norrington assisted him and then raised himself, to remove the remainder of his own clothing.

The Commodore let out a throaty moan when he lowered himself and felt Will's skin pressed against his own. He uncapped a bottle of oil and dipped his finger into it before pressing it behind Will. Will gave way slowly to the soft touch. After what seemed like an exorbitantly long time, especially by Norrington's previously crude standards, Norrington positioned himself above Will, face searching questioningly. Will yielded readily to his weight and accepted him into his body with a shudder.

Will concentrated on relaxing and before he knew it, Norrington had managed to slap another set of shackles onto his free wrist. With a quickness, he locked Will to the heavy-framed headboard with both arms above his head. This time Will was quite perturbed. The situation was tense and he could tolerate the first cuffing, since he wanted to move on and to rebound from Jack's… Whatever it was that Jack had done. The second cuffing, however, was another thing altogether.

"What is this?" Will said, twisting under the Commodore's weight. Suddenly he wanted out.

"The two of you, both behaving like common harlots. You will know what it is to be something so common, a possession. Until you show yourself to deserve better, this will be the treatment you receive," Norrington huffed in spite of his state of arousal.

"Unhand me!" Will shouted as Norrington shoved himself forward.

"You belong to me and you will know your place."

"You have gone mad!" Will yelled.

Will continued to shout and toss his shoulders to and fro, using his legs to try to push the Commodore off him, but his efforts were to no avail. He only succeeded in rousing Norrington's wrath and contorting himself such that the angle of their bodies meeting was even more unpleasant. Will began to shout for Jack. He begged Jack to escape and help him, pleaded his apologies, and declared his forgiveness until he had nearly exhausted himself. Finally, finding no response, he laid motionless under his captor and breathed heavily from the exertion of calling out.

"Have you quite finished, Mr. Turner?" Norrington asked.

Will turned his face away indignantly.

"Good," Norrington said stoutly.

With that, he resumed a more normal pace, letting Will adjust and trying to provoke a positive reaction in him. He might have succeeded, as Will found the motion of Norrington's thrust quite stimulating in spite of himself, but just at that moment, Jack burst through the door. Jack was haggard and angry and panting. His face was redder than the hottest grog blossoms and sweat soaked through his clothes from the effort of breaking through the Commodore's knots.

Norrington turned about as Jack stood dramatically in the doorway and reached quickly for the pistol on the table next to the bed. Jack was yet unarmed as he had heard Will's shouts and thus not had the foresight to search for a weapon. Yet again facing Norrington's pistol, Jack was obliged to remain still.

"What a fascinating turn of events," Norrington hissed, never moving his eyes from Jack's.

Jack didn't reply, but instead took in the scene he was intruding upon, Will splayed out by the wrists with the Commodore cruelly topping him. Tears stained Will's face and he was red with frustration. He breathed heavily and the look on his face was that of the utmost displeasure. Jack seethed.

"Will," Norrington said, disrupting the momentary silence.

"Commodore," Will whispered. His tone was surprisingly neutral.

"Will, you have a choice to make. Show Jack where your loyalty lies, and I will release him at the next port. Fail to reach completion and I will kill him, right here before your eyes," Norrington threatened.

Jack's eyes widened and Will's scrunched shut. Will tried to take himself away from the bad noise at hand. He turned his face from Norrington's chest and held his breath.

"Is that your choice?" The Commodore questioned forebodingly.

"No!" Will shouted, "no, I will do as you ask!"

Will arched his back and scrunched his face, trying urgently to become aroused. He whispered for Norrington to move, but Norrington pretended not to hear until Will voiced himself loudly enough that Jack could hear also. Jack frowned and clenched his teeth, but did not move as Norrington never wavered his pistol.

In the meanwhile, Will writhed with desperate intent and Norrington held himself up with a single hand to thrust. All of this Jack watched with silent ire, until Will must have been approaching his peak. Norrington wavered the pistol in a brief moment of pleasure and Jack made a swift move to tear him from Will's body. He lunged forward suddenly and caught Norrington by surprise, but not so quickly that Norrington could not react. He raised the pistol as Jack began to run and pulled the trigger.

The shot landed squarely in Jack's soft belly and the blood spilled through his fingers where he clutched at the wound. Jack doubled over and fell onto his knees, coughing and gasping. Jack's elegant features contorted into a visage of deathly pain. He crawled forward, his last desperate efforts trying to take Norrington's pistol and pry him off Will's body.

Will, at first, was silent. His breath held and his eyes widened, but as Jack fell to the floor, Will let loose a flurry of gut-wrenching screams. Thrust to action, he kicked furiously and twisted his body, doing everything he could to get out from the grasp that held him. Norrington, however, would not relent. He held Will fast in spite of his convulsing and continued to assault him with vulgar sentiments, urging him to climax. Norrington whispered the blame of Jack's death into Will's ear and said things to shame him, but Will ignored the onslaught. Will continued to struggle, cutting his slender wrists on the metal that bound him and screaming for Jack until he could no longer breathe.

Jack reached for Will's skin, anything that he could touch, but the Commodore grabbed Jack's wrist and tossed him away. Jack collapsed on the floor with the blood pooling around him, soaking his clothes and the wooden deck of the cabin, and he went still as Will wept his protest. Norrington grabbed Will's tear-streaked face and forced their eyes to meet. Without his expression softening, Will witnessed the final, violent trembling of Norrington's completion. Will let his eyes fall closed and his limbs go lax. It was all over now. Everything was over. Jack was gone, and Will felt he had himself to blame as much as Norrington. Will did not even begin to contemplate what else Norrington had in mind.


	10. Stranded

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 2092  
**Notes:** Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

X. Stranded

Will stood at the edge of the ship staring into the longboat and Norrington urged him to climb into it. Had he lost consciousness at the conclusion of the last terrifying scenario? How much time had gone by? A day? More? A mantra echoed through Will's mind, reminding him that Jack was dead, yet it seemed a foreign notion. It would not sink in. He could not entirely remember the progression of events leading up to this point. He felt a flow of emotions from the events passed, but was detached from them, as if viewing the situation through a cloud.

Started by a shove, Will climbed down into the longboat with the crumpled, silent figure that laid within it. The figure was Jack, but it wasn't Jack. He didn't move, didn't smirk, didn't protest, but laid unnaturally on the floor of the boat. Will did not turn as the boat moved under the weight of a third body, but reached out and touched Jack's hair. It felt the same as it always had, but a new set of emotions were attached to the stroking of it. Will felt angry that Jack did not respond. In spite of knowing that he would not, the expectation did not dissipate.

Will grabbed Jack's shoulders and turned his face upward. Blood stained the front of his body and the face, although familiar, was decidedly different. Will closed the eyes mechanically, as an act of respect, but also to prevent their eerie, mindless staring. Will heard a noise and loosed Jack's shoulders. The thud with which his body settled, the head lolling back, was sickening and heavy. Will turned from the observance of Jack's body toward the other end of the boat. Norrington had cut them free of the ship and begun to row them to shore.

Will sat on his haunches, carefully avoiding bumping against Jack's body and watched as Norrington rowed. He heard but did not listen to the sound of wood creaking and water splashing gently. Somewhere in the distance behind him, breaking waves roared against the shore. As the ship receded and the longboat swayed in the sea, the waves grew stronger, but they were guided smoothly to shore by the Commodore's practiced hand.

Will knew they had reached the beach when he felt the bottom of the boat run up into the sand. Norrington hopped out into the knee-deep water, pulled the boat completely onto the dry land and instructed Will to help him drag the boat to the tree line. When they got there, Will picked branches from a low-hanging palm and covered Jack with them before following Norrington into the shade where he was beckoned.

"Are you quite well?" the Commodore questioned viciously.

"I am very hungry," Will answered. "How long has it been since port?"

"Days," Norrington said softly. "You have refused to eat."

"I am ready, now, to eat," Will whispered, "is there any food?"

"There is something I can prepare."

Norrington lead Will away from the shore and the boat, to a shady spot under a tree many yards away. Will sat very still as the Commodore lashed him, sitting down, to a tree, in spite of lacking much concern that Will would attempt to get away. Will's breathing was deep and even and his head leaned back against the tree behind him. He slipped into a half-sleep while Norrington stalked off to tend to food.

Near the tree-line of the little island, Norrington built a fire pit and began to light it. He went about his task silently and meticulously. Once the fire was growing on its own, he turned to the boat with the palm leaves still covering Jack's body. Filled with insane and righteous fervor, he tossed away the palms and looked indignantly down at the lifeless form.

Norrington would have his revenge on the formerly happy couple regardless of what it cost him. He would be gladly damned for his vengeance; the tradeoff was acceptable to say the least. Jack's last Christian dignity, his corpse, would not remain unsullied by Norrington's druthers. He reached out with a sneer and grabbed a firm hold of Jack's clothes, lifting him clumsily out of the longboat and heaving him into the sand. Norrington's expression sharpened with strange pleasure at the thought of depriving Jack not just of Christian burial, but even seaman's burial. He was certain Jack was well on his way to damnation already, but this extra measure gave him solace.

The Commodore dragged Jack's body through the sand to the fire pit and stripped him of clothes. He stalked to the boat and back, retrieving a blade. He sat down beside the body, near the fire, and began to hack at the flesh with the blade. Norrington realized that he was going to soil his clothes with the blood and he rolled his sleeves up as far as they would go. Over the course of an hour or so, he carved and cooked most of the useful parts of the body, roasting them over the hearty flames.

When he was satisfied with the effort, he dragged the remainder of the carcass into the woods and covered it with a thin layer of loose dirt. If Will asked, he could tell him Jack had been buried, which was, in a sense, true. He pulled the boat just out of sight just in case, however, to prevent it from reminding Will of the body, which so obviously occupied his thoughts so long as it was present. Norrington surveyed the roasting human meat with approval and stalked off to get Will from the shady brush.

"There is plenty of meat if you are up to it," he told Will.

"I will eat," Will answered, nodding.

Norrington loosed Will from the tree and stood him up gently. The boy was weak from stress and hunger and lack of any real sleep. He leaned heavily and dazedly on the Commodore's shoulder as they walked back to the fire on the beach. Will's nostrils flared, smelling the cooking and clearly finding the smell appealing. With a stumble, Will propelled himself down the sloping sand to the fire and began to gorge himself, unknowingly, on his former lover's flesh. Norrington abstained, watching with twisted pleasure, but Will was too famished and too far gone for this behavior to arouse any suspicion.

When Will was finished and his belly filled with meat, he rolled back on the sand and looked at the darkening sky. He was tired. Every inch of him ached with pain and loss and need. He fell asleep. Norrington thought it best to let him rest a while and he pulled out his own store of hardtack, steeping it in a bit of boiled water, and refreshing himself before he, also, slept.

When Norrington woke it was morning. Birds sang somewhere on the island and the waves lapped at the sand near where he lay. Will still slept beside him, though fitfully, his breathing shallow and uneven. Norrington scooted over to Will's side and roused him, seeing as he looked pale and was sweating uncharacteristically of the still-cool morning. Will was slow to wake and when he did, he was confused. Immediately upon gaining his bearings, he retched.

When Will's sickness had somewhat passed, Norrington lifted him from the ground and brought him into the shade to rest. Norrington propped Will up and removed his shirt with which to dab his forehead. He saw that Will's skin was flushed and he was clearly very ill. The flushed skin, however, shone with little beads of sweat which looked absolutely tantalizing. Norrington ran his index finger through the sweat on the center of Will's chest, feeling the slickness and warmth.

Will's eyes fluttered open and shut and he felt the Commodore's hands on his body. The touch was gentle and soothing for a time, and then it took a turn for the erotic and Will groaned in meager protest. He had not the energy of body or spirit to put up much of a fight. Will resigned himself to his plight and let his mind wander, though never for too far, as it seemed he could not help but think of how Jack's lifeless body had lain still on the floor, with the blood pooling all about.

Will tried to ignore the hands on his skin and looked up at the clouds. A bird flew by. It was small and brightly colored. Will watched it go. He felt the hands again, as soon as the distraction had passed. He looked for another bird, but there was naught but palm trees, at rest without a breeze. The hands ran up and down as Will watched the clouds. The clouds were motionless. Norrington laid him flat on the ground and hovered above him, deceptively affectionate. The birds were silent. Will closed his eyes and mouth when lips met his own, and at this, Norrington retreated from kissing to squander his attentions on more fruitful endeavors.

He held himself close to Will, pressing the weight of his body down. Will squirmed, though whether in pleasure or displeasure, Norrington could not discern. The Commodore undressed himself and then bent to undress Will, moving his inert limbs with care as he disentangled them from the cloth. When Will was prone and bare, Norrington set himself upon his body, delighted by the victory he had gained in Jack's death and over Will's spirit.

Grunting with the effort of self-restraint, the Commodore recalled the bottle of oil in his coat pocket. He turned, fetched it and set upon Will again. His hand worked gently and slowly, trying to pry some response from Will. After a time, Will breathed heavily, but he never resisted. Through the whole of the venture in the coarse, unforgiving sand, Norrington could not determine whether Will's small reactions were a product of pain or desire.

With a perverse force of will, the Commodore told himself it must be desire. Will could desire no other, as Norrington was the only soul left to him. Jack was taken away. Elizabeth was long out of mind. No other lover would present himself, nor be capable of reaching Will in any other way, in his delicate state. If not for Jack, Will would have been his long ago regardless. The present was merely a manifestation of the inevitable, even if the means to said end had been rather unsavory.

Norrington placed himself between Will's knees and carefully slid forward. Will winced; not enough time, not enough oil, something. Norrington retreated for more oil and Will looked at the tree above him which had begun to sway in a light breeze. Will felt him return and work carefully and thoroughly in preparing Will for intimate activity. Norrington, however, had noticed Will's decided lack of interest. With some concentration, Will was able to sustain an almost-acceptable level of arousal. He knew that the onslaught would not end until he cooperated and he longed to be left at peace.

Will sighed and set his mind to the affectionate hands that manipulated him. He tried to let himself be comforted physically and numbed mentally by the activities at hand, but he felt ill. Will bit back nausea and discomfort and tried to relax, but the effort left him drifting in and out of consciousness. He closed his eyes and let himself flow as his body would have him. Will felt Norrington press down upon him and he turned his face away to hide the wince that crossed his face.

As the Commodore forced his way, Will gasped and finally lost consciousness, which went unnoticed by his less than lucid partner. The effort drenched Norrington in sweat and sped his breathing to a rapid pace. He buried his face in Will's neck and his hand in Will's hair and grunted loudly, waking him. Will swallowed hard and tried not to tense his body as Norrington sped to his release. He finished with a shudder and rolled back into the sand, chest heaving.

Will moaned, grateful that the ordeal was over and disgusted that it had occurred at all. He wanted to fight back, but the fight was not in him. Jack was gone, they were stranded, what purpose was left to him? Why fight? Will's jaw tightened with less fervency than was his usual manner and a tear escaped his eye. Norrington reached to wipe Will down with a cloth, but Will turned away and again began to retch.


	11. Till Death Do Us Part

**Title:** Dead Man's Chest  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof  
**Warnings:** character death, violence, non-con, spoilers  
**Summary:** 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
**Disclaimer:** At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.  
**Word Count:** 891  
**Notes:** Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

XI. Till Death Do Us Part

For some time after they landed on the island and Jack had been disposed of, Will was unwilling or perhaps unable to care for himself. He could not eat, and if he managed, he swiftly threw it up again. He was constantly feverish, hallucinating and sweating and crying out. Whenever he was awake, which was sporadically, he was unreasonable and aloof. With a caring uncharacteristic to him, Norrington cared for Will diligently. He forced him to drink the grog they had and kept him laying comfortably in the shade, but it was to little avail.

Over the course of a week or so, Will grew thin and gaunt, and nothing the Commodore could do had any effect. He refused to put Will into the longboat and bring them to the ship for fear that he could not man it alone in the strong current that had developed along the coast. And he feared that moving Will would render him permanently unwell. The point, however, was ultimately moot as Will's mental condition deteriorated rapidly and his body, once strong and tall, became withered.

One humid morning, Norrington rolled about uncomfortably in the heavy air and woke to find Will gasping for breath. In a flurry of flying sand, he came to Will's side and propped him up gently. He fought helplessly against the unseen enemy of his lover, but Will continued to suffer for several minutes, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. Finally, Will went still. Norrington put his hand over Will's face, but there was no breath. He listened to Will's chest, but it was silent.

The end had finally come for Will, restoring him to whatever peace awaited him. This, however, was no consolation at all to Norrington, having long ago been overcome by perversion and lunacy. When Will's last breath was gone, the Commodore lamented him wildly, shouting to the sea and sky, gesturing like a man gone mad. When his fit subsided, he knelt again beside Will's body. It was still warm, the sweat still beaded on the face and hair. Will looked restful, as if he might wake gently at any moment. Norrington grieved.

His grief, however, turned decidedly more insane when he reminisced about how he had loved Will, and how, mistakenly, he believed Will loved him in return. He bent and kissed Will on the mouth, half expecting a response, allowing himself to doubt whether or not he had really seen Will die. Will did not respond, but neither did he protest. Norrington laid himself in the shady sand beside his former lover. With tears streaming and oaths of unconditional love, he touched Will's hair and face.

He longed for the intimacy they had shared, if briefly, and wished aloud for one more opportunity to feel Will's heaving breath beneath him. At this Norrington mused. Certainly, there was nothing left for him. Why ought he not to lay with Will while the heat of his body remained? He would say his final farewell in the fashion that had suited them when they lived and then he would set off on the ship waiting just beyond the breaking waves. If he could not man it alone, he would go down with poetry on his lips and sadness in his heart.

He wiped the sweat from Will's brow with a sleeve and caressed his face. He tore apart the tattered shirt and tasted the skin that was so familiar to him. Will seemed so close to life, but Norrington made sure to close his eyes before leaning in to kiss him. Will always had shut his eyes. Norrington was going to fetch his oil when he remembered that Will needn't be prepared. He took haste, then, and undressed Will. He looked at the still form with longing and caressed the skin that once sweat at his manipulation. No longer. Their goodbye would be bittersweet.

With some effort, Norrington overcame his sadness and laid himself on Will, forcing his way for the last time. Will did not squirm or struggle, but most regrettably, did not moan or breathe or hold Norrington's shoulders. The feeling of being within Will was familiar, albeit different and sadly sentimental, but he was determined to commune with his lover for the last time. It was a fitting goodbye, he felt. It was the most intimate act that could be shared and he would not miss his last opportunity to share it with Will.

Thinking of better times, Norrington pushed forward until he could push no further. He tried to hear the sound of Will's voice from the first time they were together. He tried to feel his breathing, his muscles strain and pull. With the memories to carry him and the sadness to bring quickness to the endeavor, he thrust for only a few minutes before reaching his peak. It arrived swiftly enough to take him by surprise and he gasped. When he had finished and his muscles relaxed, he let his head fall onto Will's chest and he wept bitter tears. He laid beside Will for some time after, touching his face and hair with adoration and grief, thinking of whether to gain the ship at anchor and risk manning it alone or whether to remain on the island until his own, inevitable death.


End file.
